Saving Grace
by SamanthaKari
Summary: If there's one thing Bella Swan knows for sure it's this; she's a wreck. Living in the shadow of her father's death has certainly taken its toll on her. With no family and her friends on the other side of the country, her therapist is the only person she can turn to. When she finds a broken, lost little girl hiding in the subway, can they be each other's saving grace?
1. Chapter 1

So fanfiction thought it'd be cool to remove Saving Grace because I said fucking in the summary. Whatever. What's done is done, but I'm very upset about losing all of your wonderful reviews. I had something like 74 on only 5 chapters, and while that's not very many to some of those bigger-name authors, they meant a lot to me - especially when I felt like this story wasn't as good as you all tell me it is.

So anyway, fair warning. This story has cussing. It's got mentions of child abuse, a lot of them in the beginning, what I believe to be fairly graphic descriptions of the results of said child abuse, and possible descriptions of the abuse as it happened. I don't know about that for sure yet. There may also be talk of drug trafficking and use in future chapters. I haven't decided on that yet either.

I don't own Twilight. Don't really wish I did, either. The only person who dislikes Twilight more than me is probably Robert Pattinson. (I know, I know. Then why do you write Twilight fanfiction?) All publicly recognizable characters and places are property of their respective owners.

The first five chapters of this story are exactly as they were in the original, published in January of 2011. I've gone through and corrected the typos that I've noticed, but other than that, no changes.

And finally, I'm going to throw out a huge thanks to hobosknowbest for her support and twitter-pimping, and to who I'm going to refer to as her crew for lack of a better descriptor. I don't know who the rest of you are or if you're even actually friends, or a group, or anything, haha. But I've heard you have theories about where this story is going and honestly, I'm dying to hear them. Seriously. Throw them my way.

* * *

He situated himself on a nearby bench while I settled on a rock. He gazed at me passively, holding his notebook on his knee and his pen in his mouth.

We sat there for ages before he finally spoke. "What are you thinking, Bella?" he asked, though he really didn't expect me to answer him.

I put down my camera and debated between answering him or not. "I had a dream," I finally admitted. "A nightmare, really."

"Really?" he asked, shocked that I'd answered him. "About what?"

I didn't answer this time, choosing instead to stare at him until he became uncomfortable. Frustrated, he sighed.

"Why do you come to see me, Bella?"

"I've already told you that. My psych professor recommended you."

"I know that, but why? You never say anything, and it seems to be your life's mission to make the atmosphere as awkward as possible."

I looked away, staring at the setting sun. "I'm a fucking wreak, Peter. Every time I think I'm finally becoming some semblance of myself again something breaks me the fuck apart. Pictures, songs… my stupid guitar, for Christ's sake! A cop on the street corner, the one guy that has to ask, 'Hey, aren't you that girl with the father?' I can't go anywhere without a panic attack or a river of tears following closely behind."

He thought about that for a few minutes as I fought back said river of tears. "You know… it's okay to remember, Bella. It's _good _to remember. You don't want to _forget_ him, do you?"

"Not at all. But I don't want to remember what… what he looked like when I found him." I shuddered as the pictures overwhelmed me. Charlie; bruised, bloody, battered, broken…

"Unfortunately," Peter broke through, "in order to remember the good, we have to remember the bad, too. But you don't have to focus on it. Whenever you remember the bad parts override them with the good ones."

"And how do you propose I do that?"

"Whenever you start thinking of something you don't want to, just stop. Whatever you're doing, drop it. Take as many breaths as you need to and think of something else."

"But what if that doesn't work? I'm not the greatest at _focusing_…"

"We'll cross the bridge when we get it."

"Alright," I agreed reluctantly.

"Now, what dream?" he asked again.

I considered how much I wanted to tell him as I wrapped my arms around my knees, focusing on the fiery sky. "There's this little girl, hiding in some subway station. She's absolutely filthy, she's crying, and she's terrified of me. When I find her the only thing I can think about is making sure she's safe.

"I have absolutely nothing, Peter. I have no family, and I've ditched my friends. I've got no support… So why do I think it's such a great idea to take her home? Why can't I just leave her be?

"Your dreams are your own, right? So I should be able to control it… leave her there to find someone better… someone that knows where to take her and how to comfort her, someone that has other people to help her figure out what to do. And still, I bring her home every time.

"I go to take off her clothes so I can give her a bath, but as soon as I've taken her shirt off I wake up screaming. I can't even see what freaked me out so much.

"And I always have to over-think it. For one thing, why does this stupid dream have so much of an affect on me? Why does my heart race and my body freeze up? Why can't I just go back to sleep?

"And for another, where are her parents? Why aren't they fighting tooth and nail to find her? Why is she all alone? Why is she _always_ all alone?

"Which brings me back to; why does nothing ever change? Why do I never do anything differently? Why can't I control it?

"But then again… why does it matter? Why do I care? It's just a dream, right?"

"You really don't focus well, do you?" he chuckled. "How many times have you had this dream?"

"All the Goddamn time." I eyed him warily, waiting for his reaction. I hadn't spoken much since the first of our sessions, and today it felt like I'd given him my life story.

"Bella," he started slowly, carefully, and I knew I wouldn't like what he had to say. "Maybe these aren't just dreams."

"What do you mean?"

"It could be a flashback. Maybe your subconscious is remembering-"

"No," I cut him off. "It isn't me. She's too young, too little. Too broken. And truth be told, in the long run I was glad to see her go."

"It could be a representation of you. Maybe you don't remember being scared and broken, or feeling like there was nothing smaller than you. But maybe your subconscious does."

"It's not me, Peter."

He thought about what to say next. "Do you know what a premonition is?"

"Like seeing the future?"

"Kind of, but not necessarily on a regular basis. There are many cases of reoccurring dreams that eventually come true, but after that one event has occurred, the person never has another dream like it.

"If you're so convinced that this girl isn't you, maybe she's yours."

"I would _never _do that to a child, or anyone for that matter. I can't believe you'd even imply that I would!"

"That's not what I meant and you know it. And to add to that, you're the one finding her, not abandoning her. Maybe she's part of your future. You'll find her when she needs you, for however long that may be. Maybe she's in your situation, maybe she's not. But she's lost and alone, and you have experience with that. You know what it feels like to be in her shoes. You know how your father fought for you. Maybe it's your turn to do the same.

"Maybe _you _are the best person that will come along. You'll know how to comfort her, and you'll be able to figure it all out."

I didn't answer him. He couldn't be right. I couldn't even take care of myself, how could I take care of a little girl?

"Then again, maybe it's just a dream."

I laughed humorlessly. "My life is such a mess."

"All in all, Miss Swan," he said seriously. "I think today was a good one."

I snorted. "Good day, my ass," I muttered.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," I replied, shaking my head. "Hey, can I ask you something? Friend to friend instead of psycho to shrink?"

"You aren't psychotic, Bella."

"Is that a yes or a no?"

"Go on."

"Do you think I'm crazy?" I whispered.

"No, Bella," he shook his head. "I just said that you weren't. You're in pain. Everyone goes through this process differently, and it lasts a different amount of time for each person. Someday it'll hurt less. It'll never go away, but it _will _get better."

I nodded, thinking over his words. "Thank you."

"Have you gone to see him since it happened?"

"No."

"That would be a good place to start then. Bring him something, anything. Talk to him. Tell him about what you've been doing, what you're thinking. Or don't talk at all. You could just sit with him, if that's what makes you comfortable.

"I won't ask you today; I think we've had enough... but don't close yourself off. Remember, I'm here to help you.

"Next time, I'm going to ask you to, essentially, relive your experience. It will hurt, but it's one of the first steps to getting better. No more avoiding the questions. No more vague answers. Trust me when I say that, after you've done it, it'll feel good to've finally talked about it."

I knew he was right. I wouldn't admit that to him, but I knew he was.

I nodded my head. "Whatever you say, Pete. You're the professional."

We shook hands awkwardly as I slung my bag over my shoulder. "Thanks, Pete," I said quietly.

By the time I'd made it back to my apartment it was dark. Well, as dark as it could be in New York City. After some cold lo mien and the fasted shower ever I was ready for bed. I pulled the comforter around me tightly and rolled over. "Night, Daddy," I whispered, kissing the picture that I kept on my nightstand.


	2. Chapter 2

My current plan for this story is to post once a week in the hopes of giving me time to create a small stockpile of chapters. I doubt this will work, seeing as I've just started a three month long EMT certification course on top of my already infamous slow writing, but it doesn't hurt to try. The reason you're getting this chapter today and not on Friday is because I'm taking my Mac in tomorrow morning to have the screen replaced, for the third time in just about as many years, might I add, and I don't know when I'll have it back.

* * *

I was curled up on my dad's recliner, wrapped in an afghan that Jake made for me while he was in his crocheting phase. Jake… I missed him. A lot.

My eyes drifted to the charcoal drawing of the two of us as teenagers in Seattle. His tongue was nearly in my ear and I was glaring at him. We had to pay extra for the woman to agree to draw us like that.

My eyes continued on their path, coming to rest on the guitar case in the corner. I hadn't touched it in months… not since before Dad died.

My heart clenched and I shuddered, trying to control my suddenly rapid breaths. _Think of something else... Anything, anything else._

The day I got my acceptance letter. The day Charlie called everyone he knew, proud as they come that his only daughter was going to NYU. The day he presented me with my new camera and a laptop with the highest end digital editing software money could buy.

"Good evening. I'm April Matthews with Channel 6 news at six." I snapped my eyes back to the screen, the bad memories gone and my heart filled with hope. _Tonight will be the night. It has to be._

"It's been three weeks since the disappearance of Tanya Truscott and her daughter Mikayla. The two were last seen leaving the home of Mikayla's father, just outside of Seattle early that Monday morning."

I sighed. Tonight was not the night.

"The search was extended from the Pacific Northwest to the rest of the country and parts of Canada and Mexico early this morning, though as each hour passes hope for the safe return of these two diminishes a little more."

April's face and the studio behind her were obscured by a large photograph; a beautiful strawberry blond woman, her blue eyes piercing and bright, holding a little girl with gorgeous blond hair and vivid green eyes.

"Twenty-six year old Tanya Truscott is five foot eleven and one hundred and twenty-eight pounds. Her daughter is two, two foot eight, and twenty-nine pounds.

"If you have any information on either of these girls, we implore you to call your local PD. I'm April Matthews for Channel 6. Stay tuned; we'll be right back."

I continued to stare at the screen, the picture shown just moments before engraved in my memory.

Mikayla looked exactly like the girl from my dream, yet so different. They were both blond, beautiful, and little… but where Mikayla had long, shiny, curly hair, the girl from my dream had short, dull, choppy and uneven hair. Where Mikayla was healthy looking and still retained her baby fat, the girl looked like she hadn't eaten or slept in weeks. Where Mikayla was practically flawless, the girl was bruised and scarred. Where Mikayla was loved, the girl was heartbroken.

I hoped Mikayla was found. I hoped the girl was not.

xXoOoXx

It was late November, and New York City was already doubly over-crowded with holiday shoppers and tourists. The sky was a dull gray and the wind was freezing as I made my way to the subway station, trying my best to avoid colliding with anybody.

I made myself as small as possible once on the train, refusing to meet anybody's eye. Any one of those people could have killed my father. Any one of them could've killed countless others.

With those thoughts my breathing accelerated and my vision clouded over.

"Hey, you okay?" an older woman asked, reaching an arm out and pulling me to her side.

I wanted to shout, "Does it look like I'm okay?" but I refrained. "Yeah," I choked out instead, focusing on my breaths and the thought of orange frosted cupcakes once I was off the train.

I managed to calm down by the next stop, and after a quick thank you to the woman I'd bolted out the doors and up to the street. Unfortunately, in my haste, I'd gotten off at the wrong stop.

While my favorite bakery was not on this street, the cemetery was. So while it wasn't what I'd planned to do that day, I went to see my dad.

I'd only been there once, many months ago, but the grave was exactly where I remembered it being. The modestly sized stone looked like it'd been visited recently. There was a bouquet of wilting lilies propped against it and a small American flag stuck in the ground next to it.

I had no idea who could've been there but their kindness brought tears to my eyes.

I took a deep breath, running my fingers over the etchings on the stone.

_Chief Charlie Swan_

_March 1st 1964 -December 2nd, 2009_

_Loving Father, Friend, and Protector,_

_Taken long before his time, _

_He is forever in our hearts,_

_And forever on our minds._

"Hey, Dad. Sorry it's been so long." I slumped down to lean against the marble. "I don't have any good excuses for you this time. It's just been really hard… but I'm trying to make it better.

"Peter's not so bad, he's my shrink, and I think he's helping. Today I sort of fended off a couple of panicky grief attacks. Never been able to do that before…

"I didn't really come with anything else to say. I know it's terrible, but I wasn't planning on coming today. I guess you could say that I've been working up to it. I got off the wrong stop on my way to get junk food…"

The wind picked up rustled the dying flowers. I grabbed them and brought them to my nose, though I knew their scent would be gone. "I'll be back," I said quietly, turning and running towards the street.

I tossed them in the nearest garbage can and darted across the road. There was a dumpy little building with a decent florist inside. "Can I have a dozen of those, please?" I asked the gothic teen that thought he was so cool.

He gathered a group of obnoxiously bright orange, yet completely gorgeous tiger lilies and wrapped them in saran wrap. "$48.50," he yawned, checking his watch.

I had no idea if that was an appropriate price for flowers or not but I handed him three twenties and left before he had to bear another second of human interaction.

The street was eerily vacant when I crossed back over to the cemetery. As I reached Charlie once more I knew why; the sky opened with a crack of lightening and just like that I was drenched. "I love you, Dad," I said, laying down the fresh flowers. "I won't be so long next time, I promise."

xXoOoXx

I hadn't been outside for thirty minutes, yet the subway station was jam-packed when I returned.

"What's going on?" I asked out loud, noticing the worried looks nearly everyone was sporting.

"Who the fuck knows?" an annoyed looking teenager answered.

"Don't be a bitch," her friend answered. "Apparently there was this crazy dude, and he threw a fit and hit some woman, like… _on _one of the trains, and so they had to go back to the station and wait for the cops to show up and so _now_ we're all backed up until they figure out exactly what went down."

"What is wrong with people?" I laughed humorlessly, pretending that I wasn't terrified of the large group.

"I've been asking myself that for years," an older man muttered.

In reality, we only sat around for about an hour… but it felt like all day by the time a train pulled into the station. Everyone gave a cheer as the doors opened, though excitement soon turned to frustration as everyone fought to be on the first train through.

I opted to hang out until the fourth train, getting on with only ten or so others. I found a seat in the corner and avoided looking anywhere but the window, doing my best to keep my breathing even.

When my stop came I stood up, watching my feet as I got off the train. I ignored the rest of the commuters, as usual, and slipped through the gaps in the throng to get to the stairs. _No panic attacks for me this time around._

My apartment was right across the street so I fished through my pockets, trying to find my keys. "A-ha!" I cheered, slipping my finger through the ring and yanking them out.

I must've yanked a little too hard, though, because the next thing I knew they were next to a trashcan.

I grumbled under my breath as I took the few steps and bent over to retrieve them. I expected to come face to face with piles of misaimed cups and napkins and gum. What I didn't expect to come face to face with was a little girl. _The _little girl, just so we're clear.

"Oh my God," I gasped, returning her open-mouthed stare. She had cuts and scrapes all over her face and little pathways where tears had cut through the dirt.

Her dress was ragged and torn at the hem, not to mention filthy. I wasn't sure what its original color was. Her cardigan was too small for her, not to mention stained and ripped and way too thin.

Her hair was choppy and shorn, ranging from an inch to three in no artfully arranged way. It looked like someone had taken a pair of scissors and raced to see who could cut it off the fastest.

She clutched a hat in her hands so tightly her knuckles, scraped and bloody, turned white.

This was a thousand times worse than my dream. How could anyone do this to a child? How could anyone do this to anyone?

The dim lights of the station didn't allow me to properly examine her. How long had she been down here? How had nobody spotted her before? What was I supposed to do with her?

As I continued to stare at her I realized she was shivering. The first thing that crossed my mind was to get her warm, so I yanked off my sweatshirt and moved to pull it over her head.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I apologized as she shrieked, wedging herself as far into the corner as she could, fear evident in her eyes. I moved to pull the sweatshirt on again and she trembled, shrinking into herself and wrapping her arms around her tiny body.

"I promise not to hurt you," I whispered, backing off a bit. "You need something warm." Her bottom lip trembled and her eyes followed my every move as she scooted forward just enough to get the sweatshirt over her head. As soon as it was on she retreated to her corner.

I reached out to try to rub the dirt off of her cheek and she flinched. "It's okay," I assured her. "I won't hurt you. Can I clean you up, please?"

She watched me like a hawk but she didn't object as I pulled my button-up off, leaving me in an obnoxiously thin tank top. She stared at the shirt, her eyes foggy and wet as I showed it to her. "I'm just going to try to get some of that dirt off of your face, okay?"

She nodded, allowing me to rub at her face gently. When that didn't work I tried with a little more pressure, but she shrank back from me.

This wasn't working. I needed to get her out from behind the trashcan and out of the subway station.

"This isn't working, Sweetheart. You need a bath."

Her eyes widened and the near constant stream of tears seemed to slow. She nodded her head though she avoided my gaze.

"Can I see this?" I asked, pointing to the hat in her hands. She handed it to me reluctantly and I uncurled it, pulling it onto her head to cover her hair and keep her ears warm.

I held my arms out in offering and she stood up gingerly, turning to me. "No hurt? You peenky promise?" she whispered so quietly that I had to strain to hear.

Her innocence broke my heart, but in that moment I was thankful for little kids' tendency to trust strangers. _Or maybe_, I thought as I looked her up and down, _she's been through so much she doesn't think it can get any worse._

"Pinky promise," I swore, offering her my pinky. She wrapped an entire hand around it and lifted the other arm carefully, allowing me to lift her.

She shrieked again as I wrapped my arm around her to keep her secure. "I'm sorry!" I apologized again, not knowing what I kept doing to cause her to make such a noise. When we got up to street level she started to cry, sobs, snot, and all, and buried her face awkwardly in my shoulder.

I took my pinky from her hand and moved to rub her back but she jerked up and grabbed it again before I could do anything.

"Okay, I won't do that then," I muttered, crossing the street and entering my building. I pushed the button for the elevator and in minutes we were in my apartment. She lifted her head and wiped her nose on her sleeve, looking around the room warily.

"Here we are, then," I said quietly, placing her on the kitchen counter and flicking on the light. "Stay right there, okay? I'm going to go get your bath started."

She shook her head frantically, tears coming back full force. "Okay, okay! Come here then." She threw herself into my arms and cringed.

I started the water in the Jacuzzi tub and stood her on the bathroom counter. She took her hat off, throwing it to the floor as I flicked the lights on.

I studied the parts of her that I could see a little more closely. She clearly hadn't been cared for recently. And by recently, I meant _ever_.

Her hair, at least what she had left of it, was thin and lifeless. It looked like she may've had head lice, plus clumps of dirt and what looked like bits of gravel twisted into knots.

Her knuckles were scraped and bloody. The same went for her knees and her feet. She didn't have shoes or socks on and her toes were all red and black. "Oh my God… Sweetheart, what happened to you?"

She just shrugged her little shoulders in response.

I went to take the sweatshirt off and she recoiled, squeezing her eyes shut and shaking her head violently. "I'm going to take the sweatshirt off," I explained.

Her mouth opened into an 'O' and she watched on as I removed it. She shivered as it came off, but thankfully she didn't shriek again.

I reached for her cardigan but stopped. I knew I should've taken her to the police immediately, and that I'd probably get shit for not doing so. But if I'd done that she would've been stuck in those clothes and covered in dirt and blood for who knows how long. I could at least take pictures of her original condition for when I did call them.

I ran to get my camera and snapped pictures from all angles, getting close-ups of her hair and face, before moving on to her cardigan.

Her shivers continued as I took it off, and they turned into shudders when I finally got to her dress. It seemed to stick to her back, and she whimpered when I tugged a little harder.

I added it to the pile of clothes on the ground and finally got a good look at her. "Holy shit," I gasped, finally seeing the extent of her abuse.

Her entire torso was covered in bruises and burns and her stomach was discolored around her belly button. I hadn't taken very many health-related classes, but I was pretty sure that was a sign of internal bleeding…

Her arms and legs were covered in scabby cuts and scrapes, plus the bruises and burns that decorated the rest of her body.

"Turn around," I urged, taking her hand and facing her to the wall.

Her back was much the same as the rest of her body, except for the V that was burned into her left shoulder blade. "Oh God," I gasped, suddenly unable to breathe.

_"Dad? Dad! Oh my God, what the fuck happened to him?" _

_"He was killed by-"_

_"What?" I screeched. "They told me this was the ICU, not the fucking morgue!"_

_"We are in the ICU, Miss Swan. Your father was found in an ally off of 51st Street… He was rushed into surgery to relieve a build-up of pressure around his brain but unfortunately, due to the lack of Oxygen before he was found, there was nothing more we could do."_

_"So that's it? He's just… gone? Just like that?"_

_ "These machines are essentially living for him, and when we shut them off… I'm afraid his heart will stop."_

_"So he's brain dead."_

_"I'm very sorry, Miss Swan."_

_"What happened to him?" I asked again._

_"He was tortured by the Volturi."_

_"Who the fuck are they?"_

_"We refer to them as a gang, but they're more like the New York Mafia…"_

_"How do you know?" I whispered._

_"When they first capture a person, they use a cigarette to brand a V into the victims left shoulder blade."_

_"Why him? What did he do? He was fine this morning… how did all this happen in just a few hours?"_

_"Unfortunately, I don't have those answers, Miss Swan… We don't know why he was killed or by who specifically… the Volturi are very under the radar in the sense that we have no idea who their members are or where they are."_

_The floor was suddenly lit up, and a disembodied voice announced, "Code blue," over and over. "I have to go now. Take as much time as you need with him. I'm very sorry for your loss."_

She was staring at me in panic when I snapped out of it. I worked to calm my erratic breathing and roughly brushed the tears from my eyes.

I'd done my research on the Volturi. None of their victims had ever been found alive, and the bodies that had been recovered were all mutilated where it wasn't immediately obvious… Either under the clothes or under the skin.

Whatever I was seeing on this little girl was probably a thousand times worse inside. Why wasn't she screaming in agony? Unless…

I grabbed a clean washcloth off of the stack and wrapped it around my finger, using it to tap the burned area. There was no reaction.

She couldn't feel the pain. Her shrieks and her recoils and her shudders and her tears were all from feeling the pressure of my hand and from the memories of being touched… I wasn't hurting her by putting on the sweatshirt, rubbing her back, or taking off her clothes. I was scaring her.

My breathing started to pick up again and she noticed, her eyes filling with tears and her face scrunching up. "No!" I shouted, causing her to scream and throw herself into a protective huddle.

"Shit, I'm sorry! You didn't anything wrong, I just meant don't cry!" I grabbed her sides and stood her up again.

I must've taken a hundred pictures of her broken body before I was satisfied that I had enough. I slid the memory card into my laptop and saved a copy of each one before throwing my camera into its bag and slinging it over my shoulder.

She was still crying on the counter when I reentered the bathroom. "Okay, I know I promised you a bath but you need to go see the doctor… Uh…." What could I put her in? Certainly not her filthy dress.

"Oh! Okay, um…" I ran back into my bedroom and pulled one of my sleep shirts out of the drawer. "Here we go, let's put this on," I said with a shakey voice, helping her put her arms through.

"All right Bella," I muttered. "You can do this. Calm breaths… distractions. You need distractions. Just talk. Just keep talking."

I put my arms behind her back and under her legs and lifted her up, hugging her to my chest.

She shook her head frantically and struggled to get down. "I know you don't know me and I'm sorry I keep touching you but you need to let me hold you because you need to go see the doctor and I know you're scared and might not even understand what I'm saying but I really want to help you and if you keep moving like that I don't think I'll be able to."

She stared at me with her wide, innocent eyes and nodded.

"Okay," I started. "Can you tell me your name?"

She shook her head.

I sighed. "I know you don't want to talk to me, Sweetheart. I understand. I don't like talking to strangers either. It's fine, but after you tell me your name. I really need to know."

She remained silent. _Is this what Peter feels like?_

"I'm not going to hurt you. I pinky promised, remember? Those are unbreakable."

She looked me in the eye and I could see the vulnerability and the fear that was swimming around in her head. "Grace," she said quietly.

"Grace," I repeated, thankful that I got her to answer. "Do you have a last name?"

She shook her head.

"You don't know it?"

She nodded this time.

"Is that a yes or a no?"

Another nod.

"What is it?"

Her response sounded like "Cohen."

"Cohen?" I asked.

She shrugged in response and I knew she was done talking_. Fat load of help that turned out to be. _

"How old are you?" I tried. We were almost at the hospital but if I stopped talking I knew I would crack. It was only a matter of time before all of the pressure and shock got to me.

She held up two fingers in response.

"Do you know when your birthday is?"

Another shake of her head.

"Do you know where your mommy is?"

She scowled and nodded her head.

"Can you tell me?"

"No," she said firmly, though her expression was one of panic. "No, no, no." I raised my eyebrows, surprised that she'd spoken again, and so adamantly at that.

"Your daddy?"

Just like that she was crying, throwing her head back and forth in frantic shakes. "Oh, please don't do this," I begged. "You're going to hurt yourself even more, and you're going to make _me_ cry."

She looked at me with the most pathetic little eyes and I absolutely broke. I hugged her close to me as I rushed through the ER doors and cut to the front of the line.

"Fuck all of you," I seethed, answering the grumbles and protests of the man with a broken hand, the mother of a boy with a bruise, and the numerous others with inconsequential injuries.

I stood Grace on the nurse's station… or whatever it was… and before I could even speak the woman sitting directly in front of me told me to go to the back of the line.

I didn't even answer out loud, just flipped her the finger and lifted the shirt. Her eyes widened as she took in the cuts and burns and, most importantly, the discoloration on her stomach.


	3. Chapter 3

"Order a CT," she ordered the woman standing behind her. "And an MRI. I don't care who you have to bump; Get them cleared out in the next ten minutes and keep them clear for the next hour. And call Sloan. I don't care what he's doing. Tell him to cancel it.

"You!" she barked at some guy scribbling on a clipboard. "Get me a gurney."

She rummaged through a couple of drawers and then came back to me. "Name?" she asked, putting down a wristband and a pen.

"Uh… Grace."

"_Last_ name?"

"I don't really know, I think she said something like Cohen but I'm not sure."

"She's not yours?"

"Oh yeah, I totally forgot," I gasped, putting a hand to my forehead. "This is my daughter; I think I named her Grace, but I don't remember. Today I thought it'd be fun to beat her within an inch of her life and then toss her into a dumpster, but now I've seen the light and I know that she and I both need help."

Her mouth dropped open and her eyes nearly fell out. "There was no need for that."

I rolled my eyes at her. "Well if I don't know her name she's obviously not mine! If she was mine do you really think I would've brought her into the hospital after beating the shit out of her?

"I found her hiding in the subway and brought her home to give her a bath. That's when I found all that. _And_ this," I added, turning her around and showing her the V.

"Damn," she growled, recovering quickly and pushing a button on the phone sitting next to her. "You!" she yelled at another guy lazing about on the other side of the room. "Get the cops down here."

"Wait!" I called. "Call the station on East 96th. Ask for Detectives Ryland and Erikson."

"Are you serious? That's way out of the district!"

"Just do it!" I shouted, slapping my hands down on the counter in front of me. "Tell them Bella Swan said it was urgent. They'll come."

"Why does it have to be them?" he asked, exasperated.

"It just does!" I insisted. The Volturi were bound to have men inside the NYPD, and if they were to get wind of the fact that Grace was alive then they'd do everything they could to kill her and the people that had tried to save her. Carter and Katie were old friends of my dad and I knew they'd be able to help me out with keeping Grace safe and hidden.

"Uh… do you know her birthday?" the nurse asked tentatively.

"No," I sighed. "I think she's two but I'm not sure. The only thing she would say to me was her name, but she held up two fingers for me when I asked her how old she was."

She took the wristband and attached it to Grace's wrist before laying her down gently on the gurney that the boy had brought. "Since you aren't related you'll have to wait here."

"But-"

I was cut off by Grace's screams, "No no no no no no no!" she cried, reaching for me.

"Grace you need to go with the doctors," I said softly. "They need to stop your insides from bleeding."

That only made her cry harder. _Kay… so I obviously need to find some tact._

"You can't just-"

"Say shit like that? No shit… but I don't have kids and I don't know any kids. I don't know how to talk to them! Just forget about it until you fix her!"

She gaped at me until Grace started to thrash around on the gurney.

"Grace, stop! You need to stay still or you're going to hurt yourself more," the nurse demanded.

"Nooooo," she sobbed, grabbing my wrist and pulling it towards her.

"Oh for Heaven's sake. Grace, if she comes with us can you stay still and be quiet?"

She quieted immediately, watching us carefully.

"Isn't that against the rules or something?" I asked.

"NO!"

"I think in this case I'll make an exception."

xXoOoXx

"Why are you showing me these?" The man they called Sloan asked. "I've got a liver transplant in half an hour."

"Are you blind?" the CT tech asked incredulously. "Push back your transplant, you have to go in there."

"Why would I go in there?" Sloan asked dumbly. "Wait," he said slowly, looking at the CT tech and the nurse. "You're telling me that she's _alive_? There's no way she's alive."

"Of course she's alive, why the hell would we show you the CT of a corpse? Why would we even _do_ a CT on a corpse?"

"We're looking at the same screen here, right? Do you see that bleed? A full-grown man wouldn't be alive with a bleed that size. There's no way a thirty pound toddler is."

"Logically speaking, no. And if you don't get in there ASAP she won't be for long."

He raised his eyebrows and puckered his lips, blowing out of them slowly. "Okay. Get her out of there and down to OR 2. Call ahead and tell my team that the transplant is off and this is on. Where're her parents?"

"Oh, that would be me," I said, raising my hand and stepping away from the wall.

"Well in that case, what are you doing in here?"

"I'm the one that found her. The only way to get her to stay quiet and still was for me to go with her."

"Found her?"

"Yeah, found her. Someone beat the shit out of her, might have rolled her around in some gravel, and then left her for dead in a subway station."

"Huh. Good to know. I guess she's pretty bad then?"

I rolled my eyes. "You _just_ said that she should be dead. That doesn't strike you as _pretty bad_?"

"I like you, kid. Walk with me this way. What else is up with her?"

"Cuts, scrapes, bruises, burns… I think she might have lice, too. Pretty much anything that could be wrong with her is. Oh! And she can't feel anything, but if she sees you touching her she'll scream and flinch."

"What the fuck happened to her?" he muttered.

"The Volturi."

He froze and turned to me. "No."

"Yes."

"No one has ever gotten away from them alive."

"She has. She's got a V burned into her shoulder blade."

He turned to face me. "Have the cops been called?"

"Yeah."

"Then you need to go back to the ER and wait for them to get there. They're gonna want to talk to you first."

As he spoke the nurse from before and a few others pushed Grace's gurney down the hall towards us. "One sec," I told the doctor.

"Grace," I cooed, rushing to her side. "Look at me, Grace, and stop screaming, please. The people here are all good people. They're gonna take you downstairs and they're gonna tell you to do some things. You need to listen to them, okay? They're gonna make you all better, and when you wake up I'll be here. I promise."

She started to panic, panting and shaking and crying. "Grace, look at me! I pinky promised, remember?"

She nodded her head and relaxed. "Pinky promised," she mouthed back at me.

"Pinky promised," I agreed.

She nodded and waved at me silently, tears still trekking down her face as they pushed her into an elevator.

"This is going to be a highly invasive surgery," Sloan told me when the doors slid shut. "Especially in someone so small. Once the bleeding is stopped we're going to have to look around to make sure nothing else is damaged."

"Do whatever. I know I'm not her mom and actually have no say, but I don't care. Do whatever you have to. Please. I promised her I'd help her, and she needs to be alive in order for me to be able to do so."

"I'll do everything I can, I promise."

xXoOoXx

"Katie, Carter!" I cried, jumping from my chair and running to my Dad's most trusted colleagues.

"What's up, Bella? The guy said-"

"He's right."

"But nobody has ever escaped-"

"I know, and that's why I need you guys."

"Why us?"

"The Volturi have to have men inside the NYPD. There's no way they could still be doing what they're doing if they didn't. If any of their inside men catch wind of Grace's case then they'll off her and everyone involved.

"I need your help keeping it quiet. And once she's released, I need your help gaining custody."

"Custody?"

"That's what I said, isn't it? She's going to need stability and care once she's out of here. She barely trusts me, but she likes me more than anyone else I've seen her interact with.

"She apparently hates her mother and she doesn't seem to know where her father is, and until we find him I want to take care of her. I promised her I'd help her and I won't go back on that.

"Nobody deserves treatment anywhere near as brutal as what she received except for the people that did it to her. They traumatized her, and I've already scared her. I won't have her dumped in a facility or on somebody's doorstep where she's forced to be with more people she doesn't know or trust."

"I've never seen you so passionate about anything except for photography, Bella. Of course we'll help you," Katie assured me.

I nodded awkwardly. "Right. Thank you."

After that they took my statement and my memory card. "When we get back to the station we're going to have to run a search of the missing persons database, but provided that she's not on it and that nobody comes to us looking for her, it shouldn't be too difficult to push some paperwork and grant you temporary custody.

"There's a time frame, I don't know what it is right off the top of my head, but if her family doesn't claim her within it then, should you decide you want to, you should be able to petition the court for permanent custody and adopt her."

"Thank you guys, so much."

"Our pleasure, Bella. We'll call you as soon as we've got the paperwork arranged."

Sloan walked up to me just as the detectives were leaving. "Oh God, they always send nurses or interns out to talk to you. You're not a nurse; something went wrong. What's wrong?"

"Everything is fine, Miss Swan. Please, calm down. Grace is in recovery, about to be transported to the ICU. Since you aren't family, you aren't allowed to be there. However, I'm going to escort you there now. Walk with me.

"We've stopped the bleeding and, amazingly enough, found no other major internal damage. While she was under we took care of all of her cuts and burns… she's got a total of seventy-eight stitches on her person and tons of bandages.

"The stitches will come out before she is released and most of the bandages can come off tomorrow, barring complications. We debated whether or not to keep her in a coma, but ultimately decided against it due to her age and weight. Her recovery will be painful but the outcome is looking good."

"How long will she be here?" I asked.

"Again, barring complications such as a rebleed, new bleeds, post operative pneumonia, or an incision site infection, hopefully no more than two to three weeks. If none of the aforementioned problems occur it'll all depend on how quickly her body can heal itself.

"Right now she's on 100 percent bedrest and 100 percent fluids. We'll look into allowing her to get out of bed for short periods at a time after a few day without one of those previously mentioned problems.

"She's severely underweight and malnourished and her throat is incredibly raw. We'll look into allowing small amounts of solid food after she's regained some of her strength and after we see that she remains all patched up inside.

"Now this may be hard to hear but I thought you'd like to know that while she was unconscious we did a rape test. We're all happy to know that it was negative.

"And you were right, she does have lice. We've treated her for them and will continue to do so while she's here. We didn't shave off all of her hair because something like that may increase mental trauma. We did have to cut some of it in order to get all of the gravel out but it looks more or less the same as it did; choppy and dull.

"I think that's enough for now. We have plenty of time to get into the nitty gritty if you wish to."

_Ha! As if that all wasn't nitty gritty. _

I knew at that point I must've been quite a sight. I could barely see through the tears that were flooding my eyes and drenching my face. "And I can visit her?" I sobbed, wiping my cheeks with the backs of my hands.

"Yes. I'll have you check in with the nurses when we get there so that they know you're allowed."

"And where will she go when she's released?"

"To the state."

"Unless I have custody?" I asked. "Then I can take her home as soon as the papers are signed?"

"If you have the paperwork proving you're her legal guardian, then yes."

He swiped his ID against a scanner on the wall and the glass doors before us opened. "Here we are, then. I have to warn you, though, it won't be pretty. She's been bathed but she's covered almost head to toe in bandages, wires, and IVs. One is for nutrition, one for the sedative, one for painkillers, and one for her antibiotics.

"We're weaning her off of the sedative slowly but the IV will stay in her arm, just in case."

"I understand," I nodded. "Thank you, Doctor Sloan."

"You're welcome, Miss Swan."


	4. Chapter 4

I entered her room with Dr. Sloan's words in mind but they'd done nothing to prepare me. She lay there like a rag doll, swallowed by her hospital gown and taking up less than a fourth of the bed.

She had a thick tube down her throat, a thinner one coming out of her nose, and wires coming out the wazoo. Her heart rate, according to the EKG, was steady and slow. She was wrapped up like a mummy and if her chest wasn't rising and falling I would've thought she was one, heart monitor be damned.

"Who would do this to you, Grace?" I whispered, walking around the bed and grabbing her little hand. "Who would do this to anyone?" I crouched down beside her and watched her eyelids flutter. If I didn't know any better, I'd say she was just sleeping.

Her eyelashes rested against her pale cheeks, her lips were parted, and with every breath she made a little noise that resembled a snore. Everything away from her face, though, told another story altogether.

I stood up with a sigh and settled into the plastic chair next to her bed.

xXoOoXx

"Miss Swan?" Somebody poked me. "Isabella?"

"Not now," I grumbled, trying to roll over.

"You have to get up now, Miss Swan."

"What is it?" I jolted awake as I remembered that I was in the hospital and not home in bed. "Is she okay?"

"She's doing just fine, dear, but I'm afraid visiting hours are over. I hate to have to do this to you, but you're going to have to go home for the night." It was a nurse, presumably. She looked kind. Aged and wise, or something like that.

"But Dr. Sloan said I could visit her," I protested. "He said that it would be okay."

"During visiting hours it's fine, but since you're not family you can't stay here over night."

"Oh," I said sadly. "Okay… What time can I come back?"

"Our visiting hours begin at nine, but she probably won't be awake by then."

"It doesn't matter," I said tiredly. "I'll still be here." I looked around the dim room in confusion. "What time is it?" The sun was no longer shining through the window, though the lights of the city illuminated the far wall.

"Eight. Go home and get some sleep, dear. She'll be here when you get back, I promise."

"Thank you. What's your name?"

"I'm Eleanor, but you can call me Elle."

"Thank you, Elle. I'm Bella, though you obviously already knew that…"

"No matter, dear," she said, urging me out the door. "Don't you worry about a thing."

I picked up Grace's hand before leaving, rubbing my thumb gently over the top. "I'll see you tomorrow, kid. I hope whatever's going on in your head is good." I gave her hand a little squeeze and then returned it to her side, throwing my bag over my shoulder as I left.

I stopped by the gift shop on my way out but, much to my irritation, it was closed. _Oh well, _I thought. _I'm sure I can find her something better in an actual store. _I made my way out into the night, shivering as the freezing wind wrapped itself around me. I should've grabbed a coat earlier.

I hugged myself, trying to shrink unnoticed into the night. There weren't very many people out at the moment, but the few that were made me nervous. I hurried through the minimal crowds, still managing to get bumped and shoved along the way, until I finally made it back to my apartment.

The rush of heat was more than welcome as I shoved open the giant glass door, practically hurling myself into the lobby. Roger, the night guy at the front desk, glared at me as I shoved the door shut behind me, effectively blocking the cold from following me any further. I ignored him as I made my way to the elevator, jabbing at the up button until the doors were fully open.

"Y'know, Dear, jamming the button like that won't make the elevator get there any faster."

"I know," I sighed, stepping in next to the woman. She shifted the laundry basket in her arms so that she could press the button that would close the doors. "I've done it for as long as I can remember – I never think about it until it's already done."

"I understand. My granddaughter does the same thing," she chuckled, eying my tank top but thankfully not saying anything.

"How old is she?" I asked, surprised. This woman couldn't be more than forty.

"Not quite three," she smiled.

The doors opened on the third floor and I turned to smile at her. "Have a good night."

"You too, dear. Drink something warm when you get in – your lips are turning blue."

"I'm not surprised," I mumbled, stepping off and giving her a little wave as the doors closed. I took my time walking down the hallway, enjoying the occasional blast of heat from the vents. When I finally made it into my apartment, I ripped my clothes off as I made a beeline for the bathroom. I drained the water from the tub and turned the shower on, giving it just enough time to warm up before stepping into the spray.

It felt wonderful against my chilled skin, but I only spent a few minutes enjoying it. As soon as I was warm enough I got out, throwing on a pair of pajama pants and my dad's NYPD shirt. I padded back out towards the living room, picking up my discarded clothes along the way. I set them all in a pile on the kitchen counter to take back to my room with me before scavenging through my cabinets.

Save for a moldy sandwich, some crusty lasagna, and some condiments, my kitchen was barren. I picked up the phone and ordered from my favorite pizza place, opting for their pasta in a bread bowl since it was, as usual, just me.

I brought my clothes back to my room and tossed them in the hamper before starting my search. I discovered the stuffed elephant that my dad had brought to me when I had my tonsils taken out shoved unceremoniously into the back of my closet, along with the one thing I'd taken with me from my mother's house – the blanket that my nana had made for me as a baby. It was purple and blue with fringes at the edges and my name in the bottom right corner. If things went my way, I'd get Grace her own but for now, these would be perfect.

I packed them into my backpack, along with my laptop, notebook, and wallet, and went to set it on the couch just as the bell rang. I pulled a 10 and a 5 from the jar on top of the refrigerator and opened the door. "Hey Georgio," I greeted my favorite delivery guy. He was a year out of high school and working for his Dad until he decided what he wanted to do with his life.

"Hey Bella," he smiled as we exchanged money for food. "Guess what?"

"What?" I asked, motioning for him to keep the change.

"I'm goin' to Cali."

"What?"

"I got into UCLA!"

"Georgio, that's amazing! When?"

"I'm moving this summer, probably the middle of May."

"Congratulations. That is so awesome." I threw my arms around him. "I must admit that I'll miss you as my delivery boy, but I am so happy for you."

"Don't worry about it, I won't let Dad hire anyone who's not at least half as awesome as I am."

"I'm glad to hear it. Do you know what you're going for?"

"No idea. I'm just glad to be going, period. I'm sure I'll figure it out soon enough, though."

"I'm sure you will. You'll find something that works for you."

He nodded, looking at me thoughtfully. "You doing okay?"

"I'm getting there."

"Good. I'll see you later – I got another three deliveries to make on this run. Wouldn't want their food to get cold."

"No, we wouldn't want that," I agreed, waving him off. "See ya later!" I locked the door behind me and took my meal to my room, eating quickly and falling asleep shortly after.

xXoOoXx

My alarm went off at six-thirty, reminding me less than kindly that I had a class, one that I'd completely let slip from my mind, in an hour. I jumped from the bed and ran out to get my laptop, sliding it from the bag and powering it on.

I logged into the student portal and sent a generic email to each of my classes for that day's main pages, requesting that if there was anything important I'd missed would they please let me know.

After I'd powered the computer back down and replaced it in my backpack, I poured myself a glass of water and headed back to my room to get ready for the day. I chose a sweater to ensure that I wouldn't in any way freeze and pulled on the same jeans I'd worn yesterday.

After I'd brushed my teeth and added a little foundation and eyeliner to my face I pulled on my boots and coat and headed out the door. I stopped at a bakery down the road first, ordering a hot chocolate and some raspberry filled bread of wonder for breakfast.

I took them with me as I made my way back to the hospital, popping into the now open gift shop to get Grace one of those cheesy balloons and a pink rose. I wanted to get her some candy, something a little kid could really enjoy, but Dr. Sloan had said she wouldn't be able to eat solids for a while and I didn't want to give it to her only to have to take it away.

Ten bucks and a prick to my finger later and I found myself back in the ICU, arguing with one of the day nurses. "If you'd just check the list, you'd see that it's okay for me to be here."

"No, it's not. No relation, no visitation."

"How long did it take you to come up with that one, Doll Face? Dr. Sloan spoke with the nurses on staff yesterday and I spoke with Eleanor last night. Visiting hours start at eight. It's eight-seventeen. I'm going to go visit now."

I stepped around her and darted into Grace's room as she tried to grab me. Not much had changed from the night before. She looked a little less pale, but with the return of her color also came darker bruises. It was a win-lose situation. I planted my butt in the same plastic chair that I'd occupied previously and smiled at Doll Face as she glared at me from the foot of the bed.

"Can I help you?"

"Yeah, you can leave." I shrugged, hoping that if I just ignored her she'd leave. It didn't work. "Look, if you want me gone, call security. But you're gonna feel like a real idiot when I go and find Dr. Sloan and bring him back with me to tell you that I'm allowed to be here."

She rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath as she turned and stomped out the door. I moved around, trying to get comfortable in my little plastic prison, before I once again removed my laptop from my bag. There wasn't much I could do for Grace while she was still unconscious, but I could at least stay caught up on my schoolwork. I had an eight page paper due in sociology that I was only halfway done with so, as the sun continued to rise, brightening the room more every few minutes, I set to work.

xXoOoXx

Two hours later and I still had nearly a third of the paper to go. I decided to take a break, sitting up and stretching out my legs and arms. I stood up to go find myself a vending machine when the steady beeping coming from one of the machines started to increase. I stepped closer to the bed and noticed that Grace's previously relaxed expression was gone. Her eyes were scrunched closed and she started to choke on the ventilator.

"Grace," I tried to get her attention. I put my hand on her forehead in what I hoped would be a calming manner while I reached across the bed and hit the call button.

Her eyes popped open at my touch and she looked at me, eyes filled with tears. "Grace, I need you to calm down. Don't fight the tube. I know it's scary, but it's there to help you, okay? Can you please try and relax?"

She squeezed her eyes shut again, continuing to fight the machine. "Grace," I touched her forehead again, urging her to open her eyes once more. "Do you remember me?"

She tried to move her head, but it caused her to choke on the tube even more. "Okay, that was a bad idea. Never mind, don't move until they get the tube out. Hopefully they'll be here soon." No sooner were the words out of my mouth was Dr. Sloan walking through the door with Doll Face.

He checked all of the machines briefly before turning his attention directly at Grace. "Grace? My name is Dr. Sloan. What do you say we get that tube out, huh?" He pulled apart the Velcro that was helping to keep the apparatus in place. "Now I'm gonna need you to give me some big strong coughs, okay? It's probably going to hurt, but you need to keep going until the tube's all the way out, okay? On the count of three, then… One… Two… Three." She started to cough, though they sounded more like chokes and gags, as Dr. Sloan slowly pulled the tube from her throat.

"How's that?" he asked, watching as she breathed on her own, dragging in rattly breaths for the first few tries. Her face scrunched in discomfort as she continued to breathe. Weakly, she lifted her arm and brought her hand to her throat. "Thirsty?" he asked. She nodded in response.

"I'm afraid you can't drink anything, but we can give you ice chips to suck on." He left the room and returned moments later with a paper cup. "Here we are." He handed me the cup. "Not too many at a time, okay? Make them last."

He made another check of each of the machines before recording something on her chart, replacing it at the foot of her bed when he was done and leaving us alone. I knelt down at the side of her bed, careful not to scare her as her wide eyes followed me. "Grace?" I tried again. "Do you remember me?" She nodded, barely smiling at me as she reached her hand out towards me. I grabbed it in my own and held the cup up. "Want to try some of these now?"

She nodded eagerly, opening her mouth as I grabbed a chip out of the cup. "There you go, Sweetheart."

She finished with it quickly, opening up for another one. "Not to quickly, remember? We'll have this one and then we have to wait a while, okay?"

She nodded once more, accepting the requirements of the ice chips. "I brought you a few things," I told her, trying to distract her from the thirst. "I got you these in the gift shop," I said, offering her the little get well balloon and the rose. She smiled, bigger that I would've ever expected to see from her, as she reached towards the rose. She brought it to her nose and inhaled, grimacing at the pain her throat was surely giving her.

"You like that, huh? We'll have to get some more, then. Find a nice vase to keep them in, too."

She gave me that brilliant smile again, nodding in agreement as she reached her hand out towards me. "You're welcome," I told her, grabbing her hand and squeezing. "I'm glad you like it."


	5. Chapter 5

And thus ends the supply of prewritten chapters. Next chapter's about a quarter written, so I'm hoping for it to be done by next Friday, but it may be a little late. I really am going to try to keep up with regular updates but we'll see.

* * *

When Grace grew tired of admiring the rose with her own hands she set it down next to her. I moved it to the table so that she wouldn't crush it if she rolled over and then pulled the elephant and blanket from my backpack.

"This was mine when I was a baby," I told her, showing her the blanket. "It's not new and it's not much, but I thought it might add a little color to the room and that it might be a little more comfortable than the hospital's sheets." I set it next to her on the bed and then showed her the elephant. "My dad brought me this one time when I was in the hospital. I was a lot older than you so, at the time, I thought it was stupid. As it turned out, I was really glad to have her when I was alone." I handed the elephant directly to her and she wrapped her arms around it tightly, shoving her face into its head.

When she didn't look back at me after a few minutes I realized that she'd fallen asleep like that. Being careful of the wires she still had attached to her, I laid her back into a more comfortable position before returning, once more, to my plastic prison.

I decided to dive right back into my paper, leaving it with just a conclusion to go when Grace started to move again. Her eyes blinked open and she looked around the room, freezing when she spotted me. She put her hand to her throat again, her eyes moving towards the cup that previously held the ice chips.

"Still thirsty?" I asked. "These have all melted, I'll see if I can go find some more." Grace gasped, shaking her head as she reached out towards me.

"I'll only be a minute, Sweetheart. Just right outside the door." She repeated the motion, her eyes tearing up. "Okay, I won't go anywhere." I pushed the call button on the other side of the bed and sat back to wait for somebody to respond. "You're safe here, Grace," I told her. "The people here won't hurt you."

"What can I do for you?" a nurse asked as she walked into the room, thankfully not Doll Face.

"I just wanted to get some more ice chips – she doesn't want to be left alone."

"Of course," the nurse smiled. "While I'm here, let me just recheck all of her vitals." She pulled a penlight out of her scrub pocket and held it up. "Can you follow the light for me, Sweetie?" she requested, shining the light towards Grace's eyes and flashing it first to the right, then to the left. She checked all of the machines when she was done, recording their numbers in her chart.

"How are you feeling, Grace?" she asked, earning a weak shrug in response. "Are you in a lot of pain?" Grace shook her head but pointed to her throat again. "I gotcha. More ice chips. I'll be right back." She returned moments later with another paper cup. "Same drill as before, I'm afraid," the nurse sighed. "One at a time and not too close together."

"Got it," I smiled at her. "Thank you."

"It's what I'm here for," she smiled sadly at Grace. "Let me know if you need anything else, or if her pain meds wear off."

"Will do." She stepped out of the room, closing the door behind her. I gave Grace an ice chip and looked around while she sucked on it. There wasn't much to the room, certainly nothing I could use to distract her with, save for the ancient television mounted on the wall. It probably wouldn't get very many channels, but I found the remote and flipped it on regardless.

An old episode of Grey's Anatomy was playing on the channel that it had been left on, and that was definitely not appropriate for Grace, especially while she was in the hospital, so I clicked through the channels until I caught a glimpse of a cartoon.

"Is this good?" I asked, looking from the TV to Grace and back, watching as her eyes widened when she realized what was on. She nodded, settling back into her pillows a little more as SpongeBob managed to break everything in Sandy's tree dome.

We watched three more episodes before another show started playing. "Are you still feeling okay?" I asked, turning down the volume. She made a face, shaking her head and pointing first to her throat, then waving her hand near her head and her torso. I gave her another ice chip and leaned forward to press the call button again.

"Are we ready for some more pain medication, now?" the same nurse from before asked kindly, sweeping into the room. Grace stared at her as I nodded.

"I think it's time," I told her.

"I'm surprised it's taken this long," she said. "They should've worn off a couple of hours ago." She pushed a couple of buttons on one of the machines and almost immediately Grace's eyes drooped. "She'll be out for a few hours, I'm sure. Let me know when she's up, if you will. Dr. Sloan will want to talk to her now that we know she's up and coherent."

"Good luck with that," I mumbled. "Will do. Thanks!"

She took her leave and I decided that then and there, despite the fact that I'd already spent about four hours on it that day alone, was as good a time as any to finish my damned paper. I finished the conclusion in what seemed like record time, leaving the final editing to be done another day.

xXoOoXx

"Umph," I muttered as something struck me in the face. I cracked an eye open, reaching up to sweep the hair out of my face as I looked around. Stark walls, sharp scent of disinfectant, distant alarms. Right. Hospital. I unfurled myself from the awkward position I'd managed to contort into after I'd fallen asleep and jumped a little as something fell out of my lap. The elephant. _Grace_.

Looking up, I found her curled on her side, watching me watching her. She reached out, grabbing the elephant from my hand and hugging it to her chest. "Uh… are you okay?" I asked, not quite sure what'd just happened. She shook her head. "What's wrong? Are you hurting again?" Another shake. "Thirsty?" And again. "Bored?" I guessed, rewarded with a nod. "I'll bet."

I stood up and reached over her, pushing the call button for what felt like the umpteenth time that day. "We'll find something for you to do after the doctor comes in to see you, okay?" Back to the nods.

The nurse came in again, still not Doll Face, and looked from me to Grace. "Still feeling well?" she asked brightly.

"I think so," I answered. "She's a little bored, though, so I figured when Dr. Sloan came up to see her I'd go off an try to find a game or something."

"I don't have anything on this floor, but I'm sure if you visit peds, on 12, they'll have some stuff. And I know the gift shop has coloring books and little travel-sized board games," she said, tapping away at the pager attached to her hip. "Dr. Sloan should be here in a few minutes. He's going to run a more extensive check on her than what I did before. He's going to ask her some questions, and then he's probably going to send her off for some post-surgery scans. All-in-all, it'll probably take a good two to three hours."

"Okay, thanks." I picked the remote up, flipping through the channels again. I stopped on the Disney channel, some blonde kid in a chicken hat toting around a baby on the screen, and picked up my bag to find my wallet.

I slid out my debit and ID, pocketing them as the door opened again. "Hello again, Miss Swan. How are you doing on this fine day?"

"Could be better, Dr. Sloan, all things considered…"

"Of course, of course. And how about you, Miss Grace? How are you feeling today?" She shrugged her shoulders in response, refusing to look him in the eye. "Could be better, could be worse?" he joked, reaching for her chart. He went over it before checking all of the machines, recording their new numbers. "Alrighty, Miss Grace. We are looking good!" He sat down on the edge of her bed and pulled out his penlight. "Do you know what this is?" he asked her.

She nodded, pointing to her eyes and her mouth. "Well aren't you just Little Miss Know-It-All?" he smiled. "Do you mind if I check your eyes?" She shrugged again but still wouldn't look him in the eye. He turned the light on, first watching for her pupillary response, then flicking the light right and left to see if she followed it. "And can you open up for me, please?" She looked at me, unsure about whether or not to do so.

"Go for it," I encouraged. "Show him how wide you can open up. I bet even bigger than he can!" she watched me for a few more seconds before turning back in his general direction and opening her mouth. "Wow," I exclaimed softly, adding an exaggerated, "That's_ really_ wide," to earn myself the first tiny giggle I'd heard from her.

"Hmmm," Dr. Sloan mumbled. "Your throat still looks pretty red. How does it feel?" he asked, flicking off his penlight and pocketing it. She made a face and gestured towards the cup of once more melted ice chips.

"I'll bet," he agreed, punching the call button and handing the cup to the nurse when she came in. "We'll get you some more right away," he promised, scooting himself down towards the foot of the bed, pulling Grace's blanket with him. "Can you sit up for me?" he requested, moving his hand to her back to help. She flinched when he touched her, putting her hand on his and pushing it away, using it as leverage to get herself all the way up. "Alright, alright," he backed off, grabbing the stethoscope from around his neck and putting it in his ears. He separated her hospital gown in the back and put the metal end against her skin. She winced at the cool temperature but stayed still, taking a deep breath before he even had to ask.

"You've done the before, haven't you?" Dr. Sloan guessed, moving the piece to the other side of her back. She nodded sadly, taking another breath. "Ever been in the hospital before?" he asked carefully, moving the piece again. Another nod. "What for?" A shake this time; no more answers for us.

He sighed, removing the stethoscope from her back and pulling the gown away from her front, setting it down on her chest. She started another round of deep breaths, her eyes shut tight the entire time. I wasn't positive, but it looked like she was trying not to cry. "Alright Sweetheart, your heart and your lungs sound good. Any pain with those big breaths?" Her eyes opened and she looked at him, eyes wide as she shook her head. "Good," he muttered, putting the stethoscope back around his neck and fixing her gown. He put his hands on her stomach over the thin layer of cotton and started pressing down, moving around slowly. "Feels like everything's holding up like it should. Does this hurt?" he asked, putting a little more pressure. She shook her head again, though she looked much less sure of herself, watching him as he moved back to the end of the bed. She continued to scrutinize him as he lifted each of her legs, bending them and checking out their wrappings. "What d'you say to getting these off?"

She nodded quickly, raising a hand to scratch at the bandage on her arm. "I'm afraid that that one might need to stay on a little longer," he told her. "The boo-boos on your arms were a little bit worse than the ones on your legs." He unwrapped the long strips covering the majority of her legs and removed the gauze patches that were hidden underneath. She had two different sets of stitches on her right leg and scabs in various stages up and down both of them. He ran a finger down one of the rows gently, causing Grace to flinch back and cry out. "Sorry, Sweetheart," he apologized, moving his hand away. "Can you wiggle your toes for me?" She made a face as she did as she was asked, one that just screamed out, "Of course I can. What kind of a question is that?"

"Very good," he praised, patting her foot and pulling three packages out from one of the pockets of his coat. "Now, this is going to sting a little," he told her, removing a sterile wipe and running it gently down both of the stitches, watching as she clenched her eyes and her lips but remained still. "But I can't tell you how many little girls I see who bump their stitches and pull one. And let me just tell you," he said, opening the other package and pulling out two large Band-Aids, "You do not want that to happen." She shook her head in agreement as he secured them to her leg.

"Now can you lift your arms up and wave your fingers?" he requested. She gave him that look again but did as he asked. "Great job," he cheered her on. He grabbed her first arm and started to undo the bandage. "This probably won't get to stay off," he warned her, "but a fresh one won't itch as much." He took the one off of her other arm when he was done and held them out to compare. "Hmmm, this one actually looks pretty good," he said, surprised, as he put a regular old Band-Aid on the first arm's row of stitches. "This one's going to need to be wrapped up again, though," he told her apologetically, pulling out a new bandage and wrapping it carefully.

"Now that that's taken care of, what do you say we go take a ride in a spaceship?" he asked her enthusiastically. She scrunched up her face, shaking her head in response. "Well that's a new one. That always works," he laughed, standing up. "I'm afraid we're going to have to take a ride whether you want to or not. But, if you agree to come with me, I'll see about getting you out of the bed and into a chair instead for the dangerous journey there and back."

She couldn't say no to the chance at getting out of the bed for a little while. Or gesture, as the case may be. "Sit tight," he said, handing her the cup of ice chips that the nurse had brought in at some point. "Have a couple of these. I'll be back in a few minutes." She reached into the cup and popped two chips into her mouth, sucking on them immediately. She played with the cup in her hands, staring at it as the door opened. The nurse had returned, wipes and a diaper in her hand.

"What say ye to a fresh diaper?" she asked Grace, whose eyebrows shot up as she pulled her gown up and looked at herself. She made a face of disgust and shook her head, pulling at it and whining. "What?" the nurse asked, shocked. "You don't want a clean one?" Grace shook her head, starting to cry. She reached out towards me and when I gave her my hand she pulled. I moved to sit near her on the bed and she immediately leaned over, pulling my jeans towards her.

"What are you doing?" I asked, shell-shocked as she reached down and pulled up the edge of my panties. She continued to tug on them as she cried, overworking herself to the point where she could barely breathe.

"Grace," the nurse said softly, trying to calm her. "Calm down, you're all right," she soothed, putting a hand on her shoulder. Grace shoved it off and continued her tantrum over the diaper.

"Grace," I said, catching on. "Are you potty-trained?" Just like that she was silent, nodding furiously and tugging at her diaper and the elastic of my panties.

"Well," she said, thinking. "We don't have any underwear for you here, so how about we make a deal?" she suggested. "We'll put this diaper on for now, and when you have to go we can try using the potty. If you don't have any problems, we'll get you some underwear. Does that sound good?"

Grace scowled at her but agreed, her face going bright red as the nurse cleaned her up and put the new diaper on. "There we go," she said when she was done. "Thanks for working with me," she added before she left, throwing a wink Grace's way.

We waited a couple more minutes, Grace fidgeting with the diaper as we waited for Dr. Sloan to come back. "Look what I brought," he sang when he returned, pushing a purple wheel chair through the door. "This is the only one of these that we've got. I had to steal it from some other kid when she wasn't paying attention," he whispered conspiratorially, earning another giggle from Grace. "Are you ready?"

Upon receiving her affirmative he lifted her from the bed gently, though I still caught her grimace, maneuvering her and her IV pole so that nothing became tangled or pulled on her. He set her down carefully, wheeling the pole right next to the chair. "Remember what I said about the dangerous journey?"

She nodded, clutching the armrests. "This is your magic staff," he told her, moving her hand to hold onto the pole. "As long as you hold onto it all of the danger will be warded off. Do you think you can handle that?" She nodded, giggling quietly as he started to push. "She should be done in about an hour," he told me.

"Thank you."

xXoOoXx

As soon as they were gone I gathered my bag, hauling it over my shoulder as I stood. I made my way down to the main floor, relocating the gift shop with little hassle. I managed to find a SpongeBob coloring book, a box of colored pencils, and a travel-sized Chutes and Ladders. I paid for my finds, asking the cashier if he knew of any children's clothing stores in the area. He directed me to a Macy's right down the street, where I found Grace a pair of real pajamas, frosty blue ones with penguins on them, another hat for her to wear if she felt self-conscious about her hair, and a 5-pack of the smallest pair of panties that they sold.

I stopped at a Starbucks on the way back, ordering a hot chocolate and a muffin to go with it. When I was done I headed back to the hospital, making my way back to Grace's room. She was back in her room when I got there, knees drawn to her chest and her arms wrapped around them as she rocked herself slowly. "Hey Kid. What's up?" She stopped rocking immediately, her face breaking into a smile when she saw me. "I gotchya something," I smiled, holding up the bags. "Wanna see?" She nodded shyly, patting the bed next to her and wrapping her arms around one of mine when I sat.

"First, I got you some real PJs." I pulled the pants out first, holding them out to show her. "They'll probably be too big, but I bet they'll be better than that gown." She nodded in agreement, reaching for them. I pulled the tag off and gave them to her, watching her struggle briefly to pull them up as she, it seemed, tried to move as little as possible. I pulled the tag off of the shirt and held it up for her to put her arms through, concerned by the fact that she let out a little whimper when she moved back to put her right arm through, before buttoning it up for her. She leaned back into me after I threw the tags out, wrapping her arms around mine once more. "You're welcome, Kid."

I pulled out the package of underwear, next. "I picked these up, too, for when the nurse says you can wear them." She took the package from me, setting it on the nightstand next to her. I bypassed the hat, as I assumed she hadn't seen her hair yet and I didn't want to be the cause of any more distress, and pulled out the coloring supplies and game. "And these are for you, too."

Her eyes lit up at the coloring book. She took it and the pencils gently and pointed towards the over-the-bed table sitting at the foot of the bed. I pulled it up to where she could reach it and let her adjust it as she liked. When she was happy with its placement she opened the book up to the first page, an outline of SpongeBob holding a bottle of bubbles in one hand and the wand in the other. She chose a yellow pencil, handed the box to me, and set to work on SpongeBob's body.

After a few seconds she stopped coloring, turning to me and pointing from me to the box in my hands to the page. "Oh," I said, surprised. "Okay." I took out a light blue and started working on the bubble bottle in his hand. Fifteen minutes later we were done with the pre-printed image, but Grace took it upon herself to fill in the background, coloring in sand, coral, and SpongeBob's pineapple in the background. "That looks awesome." Far better than what I would've done. She smiled, pulling out the black pencil and carefully signing her name in the corner. She handed the pencil to me and pointed to the spot directly underneath, where I signed my name only slightly neater than she had.

She turned the page and got to work on the next picture. I waited to make sure she still wanted me to color with her before picking up a pink, starting on Patrick while she worked on SpongeBob. The door opened a few minutes later and I looked up, finding Dr. Sloan with a huge envelope in his hands. He gestured for me to come over so I set down my pencil, moving carefully to avoid bumping the table as I stood up. "What's up?" I asked, coming to a stop next to him.

"I've got her scans here, and a couple of them concern me. I figured you'd want to see them."

"Okay…" He removed the first from the envelope and stuck it up on the light board behind the door. "This is her abdominal CT. See this discoloration here? That's all bruising. I'm concerned by how dark it is because she either can't feel the pain, which means that there's more wrong than we thought, or she's not letting on to the fact that she's hurting, which doesn't make sense. Her pain meds will mute the feeling caused by this bruising, but they won't cancel it out. She should be feeling something, especially when she moves. And breathes. Pretty much all the time."

"Well I'm not the professional here, but I think the problem is the lateral. I watched her face when you were doing your exam earlier, and again when you lifted her to the chair, and her expression didn't quite match up with her denials. And when she put her pants on by herself, she moved as little as possible… sitting down and barely lifting herself up to pull them up and when we got her shirt on she whimpered a little when she pulled her arm back and stretched to the right."

"Keep an eye on that when you're with her," he said, pulling the scan back down. "If she doesn't complain about pain by the end of visiting hours I'm going to have to come back and see if I can make it hurt." He paused, looking at me. "Okay, that didn't come out right…."

"I got your point. I'll keep an eye out," I agreed.

"Then on to the good news. The surgery seems to have taken well; there isn't any bleeding going on at the moment. We're going to keep her on mostly fluid nutrients, though I think we'll let her try jello or pudding, maybe apple sauce or soup, tomorrow afternoon, until we do another set of scans in a few days. If that bruising has lightened up in a few days we'll start her on bread, maybe pasta. Something solid but still soft.

"I'm a little worried about her right ankle. The bruising on it is darker today so I x-rayed it and I believe she may have a small fracture. I say believe because it's so small that it could be a speck on the lens. We're going to keep her off of her feet until those rescans where I'll see how it looks – then we'll see about letting her try to walk around a bit. Any questions?"

"The diaper," I started off. "I don't know if you heard, but she's not happy about it."

"Ah, yes. I did hear, in fact. Let me see about getting a seat for her. If she lets you know that she needs to go you can carry her in and let her do her business. If all goes well, and if she sleeps through the night without soiling the diaper, then we'll let her take it off tomorrow morning."

"Sounds good. Thank you."


	6. Chapter 6

Three days passed by before Grace was able to take the diaper off and, due to the medications they were giving her to help her sleep through the nightmares she'd started having, she still had to wear it at night. She was _not_ a happy camper, and my heart broke every time she realized she'd used the diaper, her face growing red, eyes scrunching shut, and tears dripping slowly down her cheeks. I hated how embarrassed she got every time it happened, but I had no idea how to make it go away.

I tried to make her feel better by telling her about how I used to have this grandmother that wore diapers 24/7 for nearly eight years before she finally died, but that only earned me a glare in response. What? I already said I didn't have any tact.

"How about this? Accidents happen. Especially when you've been through what you've been through. You've got an _awesome_ excuse, here. And besides that, who cares that you need to wear a diaper again? Nobody's gonna know about it but you, me, and the nurses, and they deal with people of all ages in diapers every day. You'll probably never see any of them again when this is all over, and It's not even permanent – you won't be wearing it by the time you get out of here." At some point during my little lecture she'd turned away from me, training her gaze on an ugly hospital painting of a vase of flowers. I didn't know what else to say to her until I realized her shoulders were shaking.

"Grace…" I sighed, putting my hand on her shoulder. When she flinched away from my touch I moved to sit next to her on the bed.

"I wasn't trying to make you cry," I told her. Honestly, I had no idea what it was that had set her off. I tried to get her to look at me but she just turned farther away. "Alright, look. I have zero experience with kids, especially your age. I don't have good stories or analogies to give you. You probably don't even know what an analogy is, do you?" I asked. "That's what I thought," I continued when she shook her head, moving back towards me. "And I don't have another word off the top of my head to use to give you an idea of what it is. The point I'm trying to make is this: I really don't know how I'm supposed to talk or act around you. This is all new to me." She smiled, barely there, and shrugged her shoulders. "I'm doing okay?" I asked, honestly worried at what she thought of me. She finally turned back to her original position, looking up at me with a nod and a grin. "I'm glad."

xXoOoXx

I was flipping through the channels, trying to find something Grace wanted to watch that didn't completely suck. "This?" I asked, stopping on a documentary about sea snakes.

_Really?_ the raise of her brow asked.

"This?" A cartoon with a raccoon type creature talking to a gumball machine. …_the fuck?_

_Nope._

"This?" A three-hour long special on the Titanic.

_Uh-uh._

"This." Monster's Inc. Who doesn't love Monster's Inc?

_Yeah!_

"Finally," I sighed, upping the volume a bit and tipping my chair back to lean against the wall, settling my feet on the edge of the bed.

My phone chimed nearly an hour later, just as Doll Face showed up with a tray of soft foods for Grace. "Oh great," I muttered, rolling my eyes as she gave me the once-over. She swung the table over Grace's lap and set the lunch down, thankfully leaving without saying anything.

Grace stuck her tongue out at the retreating figure, snatching her napkin and laying it across her lap. _I _don't even put my napkin in my lap in fancy restaurants. Who the hell taught her to do so in _bed_?

She grabbed the red cup first, struggling to open it. "Need some help?" I offered, taking the Jello from her and pulling off the foil lid. She smiled as I handed it back, attacking it with her spoon the best she could with the pulse oximeter on her middle finger. I took my phone from my pocket as soon as I was sure she was good and unlocked it, opening the text from Katie.

_No hits from missing persons anywhere near here. Ran her face and her prints through the system, too. Nothing. Expect a social worker any time now. As soon as she gives an all clear we can finalize the paperwork for temp. custody._

_Took you long enough… ;) Thanks for everything, Katie. I owe you._

_No problem. That's what family is for. Besides, my part was easy. You've got your work cut out for you._

_Yeah but this is bigger than that. I owe you. Does this social worker have a name? _

_Most likely. _

Well alright then.

xXoOoXx

"I'm looking for an Isabella Swan?" someone voiced quietly from the doorway.

"That's me," I smiled, standing up as Grace covered her head with the blanket at the appearance of someone lacking a hospital uniform. The woman looked at her, clearly concerned.

"She does that…. not a big fan of strangers."

"So I've heard," she agreed. "But she's taken a shine to you?" she asked, cutting right to the chase.

I wasn't really sure how to respond to that. She'd quite obviously _taken a shine _to me or the social worker wouldn't have had any reason to be there yet. "Okay, I really want to be sarcastic right now, but I'm afraid it's going to ruin my chances of taking her home." I go for the honest route, hoping to earn brownie points.

"Sarcasm will not be the reason I declare you an unfit caretaker, Miss Swan," she smirked.

"Bella."

"I'm sorry?"

"My name – please, call me Bella."

"Of course," she agreed, stretching her arm out in front of her. "Clara Wolfe," she introduced, smiling as I shook her hand.

xXoOoXx

"Why don't we start off with when you found the child," Clara Wolfe suggested once we were seated alone in one of the hospital's conference rooms, removing a manila folder and a notebook from her bag.

"Okay," I agreed. "How much do you already know?"

"I know all of it, from Dr. Sloan, and the report that your Detective friends wrote up. I'd like to hear it first hand from you, though." I nodded, starting off from where I'd dropped my keys and ending with where we were now.

"And just why are you here, Miss Swan?"

"I thought we just covered that," I said dumbly.

"But why do you remain here? Surly you have other responsibilities? Work? School? Family?"

"My other responsibilities have been taken care of. I'm here because I want to be."

"But why?"

"I know you have my entire life in that file of yours. Aren't you curious as to why, after that birth certificate, there's nothing in your folder on me until nine? "

She didn't answer.

"I'm here because I've been where she is, okay? And being there sucks. I wouldn't wish this pain or this fear on my worst enemy.

"But I'd still be here even if I hadn't been where she is. Grace has nothing right now. Nothing but a broken a heart and a body covered in bruises. As far as we know there's nobody out there looking for her, except maybe the people that put her here in the first place. She has nowhere to go after this, and I don't think she could handle being put in a foster home or a group home. They're too unstable. Too unpredictable.

"And on top of that, she doesn't like strangers. She likes me. There's no reason to put her somewhere she doesn't want to be when I'm right here, willing to take her home."

"How do I know you're not looking to take care of her to fill in the emptiness in your own life?" Clara Wolfe asked. "To somehow benefit you, rather than the child?"

"Do I look like the kind of girl who would make this decision lightly? Who'd decide to take her home because I'm _lonely_? Because it _could _be fun to have a kid around? Kids aren't easy. I know that. I do have responsibilities. I'm in school. Luckily the semester is almost over and I can rearrange my classes and take some of them online, but that doesn't change the fact that I'm a student."

"You are indeed, and an awfully young one at that. Nineteen? And you want to take on a child on top of that responsibility? One that is likely to have physical and emotional trauma with long-term affects, most likely requiring future, costly professional attention?"

"I had emotional trauma with long-term affects. I turned out all right."

"And yet you're seeing a psychologist."

"I don't do well in large crowds. He's helping me control and prevent my panic attacks. I'm seeing him of my own free will."

"But you'll have to be surrounded by people if you plan to take on the role of mother. Play groups, dance class, school, the park…."

"You walked with me here, through hallways full of people. I can handle being in the same room as a group of people. I can't handle small spaces, like a crowded subway, or being in the center, like in the middle of Times Square. I can't handle being pushed and shoved and touched. And that's assuming that we don't find where she belongs."

"So you have no intention of filing for permanent guardianship if the child's family is not found?"

"Of course I do. What kind of person would offer safety and security unless the offer stood permanently? And _the child _has a name," I told her angrily. "It's Grace."

"You'd be surprised," she said, ignoring my last remark.

"And as for the costs of anything she needs in the future, that won't be a problem."

"Oh?" she asked, raising an eyebrow speculatively.

"Didn't learn _that _from your file, did ya?" It was my turn to smirk. "My mother's grandmother _and _parents left everything to me, and everything that was left to my father, plus his estate, was left to me when he died."

"There's nothing about any of that in this file," she agreed. "Including your mother and her family."

"That's because my mother is dead to me," I told her. "And the reason the first half of my life is missing from your folder is because that birth certificate is not the first and Isabella Swan didn't exist until I was eleven."

"Yet this paperwork starts at nine," she argued.

"There's no paperwork," I disagreed. "There are papers saying that there _was _paperwork. Arrest records, expunged upon my eighteenth birthday."

"Admitting to arrest will not help your case, Miss Swan."

"Would you rather I lie?" I laughed. "I have nothing to hide. I was _nine_. I did what I had to do to survive."

"Do explain."

"Which time?"

"Let's start with the first."

"I was nine years old, and starving. I lifted an apple and some crackers from a convenience store. When the clerk grabbed me and tried to take them away I bit her.

"They tried to put me in a foster home and when we got out of the car I ran through the woods until it was dark. Eventually I found the other side, but it was the middle of the night. I slept under a tree and woke up the next morning to other kids screaming. I snuck into the playground and took a few of their lunchboxes.

"They lasted me a few days. I got picked up shoplifting a few more times. Escaped from the car two more times before they figured out I was the same girl and started using the child locks to keep me in until they could escort me to the door. Ran from the foster home a few times before they moved me to a house with an alarm and a fence.

"It didn't keep me in for long. I climbed out my bedroom window and onto the roof, climbing down that garden fence thing, the one with the vines, like you see in the movies. I worked harder to fly under the radar, but when hurricane season hit I decided it would be better to be in jail or a home, just until the storms blew over.

"I found a rock and threw it at the first cop car that drove by. It was my dad. 'What the hell do you think you're doing?' he yelled when he got out. 'You're gonna get somebody killed!'

"'You arrest people for stuff like that, right?' I asked him. 'I wanna go to jail. I don't want to be outside in the rain again.'

"'Then why don't you just go home?' he asked. 'Instead of tossing rocks at windshields.'

"'I don't have one,' I told him. 'That's why I gotta go to jail.' He took me to the station, but didn't make me sit in the holding cells. He let me sleep on the couch in the break room and when I woke up he was there with actual food and a bottle of water.

"'I know all about you,' he said, handing me a piece of pizza. 'Appeared out of nowhere and disappearing just the same. Where'd you come from?'

"'Doesn't matter. Can't go back and even if I could I wouldn't.'

"'Well you have to go somewhere. You can't live outside. You can't keep stealing from stores.'

"'It's better than foster care,' I whispered. 'I can't go there, either.'

"'Well why the hell not?' he grumbled, making me laugh. It was hard not to laugh at him. Such a serious face with such a gruff, relaxed personality."

"Those things don't go side in side," Clara Wolfe told me.

"They did with him. Anyway, I told him about this girl I'd met in one of the schools I'd gone to. I only knew her for a few days before she got moved again, but she was in foster care. She told me about the over-crowding, having to share rooms with a girl twice her age who hogged everything. She told me about how they made you stay with the parents that suck for months upon months and how they always seemed to take you from the ones that actually cared after only a few weeks. How, since they moved her so frequently, as the newbie she always seemed to fall by the wayside.

"I was not going to let that happen to me, and I told him so. I'd rather live on the streets, all by myself, where I knew right from the start that there was nobody there for me than to live in a house where people pretended to care until you needed something, or where they never even held any pretense and just straight up treated you like shit."

"You realize that that girl's situation was one in a million."

"I do now. I didn't then."

"You realize that the chances of that happening to the child are one in a million."

"I don't care. I'm surrounded by one in a million chances. Getting the mother that I got, that girl, the cop I threw a rock at becoming my father, finishing high school at all, let alone with a 3.7, getting into NYU, my father being killed by the same psycho group that put Grace here, being the one to find Grace… My whole life has been one in a million chances, so chances are, Grace would be that one."

"I'd like to speak with the child for a few minutes," she said, closing her folder and sliding her pen over the cover.

"Good luck," I told her.

"I'm sorry?"

"She doesn't like strangers," I reminded her. "And as I'm sure you know from one of your reports, she doesn't speak…"

"Yes or no will suffice for what I need to speak with her about today."

We made our way back up to the ICU in slightly awkward silence. "I need to grab my phone, but then I'll be out of your hair," I told her, opening Grace's door. The bed was made, the garbage emptied, and my bag gone.

"Excuse me," I interrupted one of the nurses at the station. "The little girl, Grace… where is she?"

"They didn't tell you…?" she trailed off.

"Tell me what?" _Breathe, Bella. Screeching is not necessary. Don't panic._

"They took her down for another set of scans and then transferred her to peds. If you'll give me just a second I can get you her room number."

"Yeah, that'd be great. Thanks," I breathed, feeling light-headed.

"Yeah, no problem. She'll be in seventy-one sixteen if she's not already."

"Thank you. There was a bag in the room before, whe-"

"Anything in the room not belonging to the hospital was brought up with her."

"Right. Thanks." I made my way back to the elevator in a daze, ignoring Clara Wolfe's irritating stare. "What?" I finally snapped.

"You fought off a panic attack," she stated. "Over the child."

"You'd have panicked, too, if someone you cared for was in the hospital and just…. disappeared."

She hummed in response, stepping off as soon as the doors opened. "And her name is _Grace_." I brushed past her, searching for a sign and rushing off in the direction it pointed me in.

"Oh, Grace," I whispered upon entering her new room. She was once again curled in on herself, knees against her chest and arms wrapped around them, but she was so much tighter than the last time. Her head was between her knees and her hands were clutching her arms near the elbow, losing their grip every few seconds as she rocked violently back and forth, her frame shaking.

"Grace," I said again, louder this time. "Hey, hey, hey." I sat down next to her, pulling her arms away from her body and lifting her head. Her eyes widened when she saw me and paused before throwing herself into my chest, one of her hands curled between us and the other clutching my shirt at my shoulder. She buried her face in the crook of my neck as she cried, snot and tears smearing onto my skin. _Lovely. _

"You're okay, Grace," I soothed, rubbing her back. "It's okay, there's no reason to cry. You're fine. I'm right here." She pulled her arm from beneath her and threw it around my neck, hugging herself to me tightly. She struggled to catch her breath, her entire body shaking and shuddering. "Breathe, Grace. You have to breathe," I pleaded.

To her credit, she tried. But between her sobs and gasps and trying to catch her breath she started to cough, causing more tears to come pouring down her face. She tried even harder to breathe, coughing even harder instead, leading to full on hysterics. The combination could've been deadly, I thought, trying desperately to calm her. Eventually she could do nothing more than cough, which quickly became violent.

The previously dry coughs sent mucous flying onto my neck. I grimaced as I moved my hand from her back to wipe it off, freezing when I saw the bright red blood smeared across my fingers. I pulled Grace away from me, momentarily confused at the sudden draft against my stomach. I looked down, gasping when I saw my shirt stained red. "What the…" I trailed off, pulling the shirt away and looking for the source.

"It's not you, Miss Swan, " Clara Wolfe reminded me, causing me to jump. I'd forgotten all about her when I saw Grace's state. _Grace_.

"The b-button," I stuttered, pulling Grace's top off and bunching it up, holding it against the bleeding. "Button on the wall." She found it on the one in front of me, mashing it repeatedly as I struggled to keep Grace still.

_Code blue. Siren. Code blue. Siren. Code blue. Siren. Code blue. Siren. Code blue. Siren. Code blue. Siren._

"Wrong button," I whispered as a team ran in with a crash cart.


	7. Chapter 7

I really don't like the way this chapter turned out. I had a really difficult time writing it because A) I wrote most of it over the last two hours (I spent the day procrastinating writing by shooting bottles and zombie targets in the backyard) and B) there are things I was trying to convey and I don't know if I pulled it off, but I want to keep with this every Friday posting schedule for as long as I can.

**WARNING:** **There are mentions of both abortion and implied rape in this chapter. **

* * *

"You told me to hit the button on the wall," Clara Wolfe huffed, sounding every bit the scolded kid that she very clearly was not, as soon as the nurse in charge of our hall stopped berating her.

"I meant the _call _button, not the _blue _button."

"That's the only button there was!"

"There's more than one wall!"

"What's the difference anyway? They both bring attention to the room, _and_ I'll bet that hitting the blue one brought them faster."

I didn't respond, gaping at her as she continued with her rant. "What?" she asked when she finally noticed my stare.

I shook my head. "I just don't understand how you can go from cold and detached to… whatever _this _is, so quickly."

"Cold and detached comes with the job. I got too close to too many cases in my first few years, and my relationship with the children and with their prospective parents caused one too many poor decisions. Plus I find that being cold and detached often helps to intimidate the weak hopefuls into breaking, showing me a glimpse of their real personalities versus the fronts that they put up to try and impress me."

"Just so you know, that won't work with me."

"Oh?"

"I may not look like much, but I'm stronger than you think. I'm not easily intimidated, and I'm not putting up a front. And I'm certainly not looking to impress you."

"No, you're certainly not," she agreed. "If you were, you never would've willingly admitted to your past indiscretions and misfortunes. You would've tried to tell me that you came from a family with strong morals and values."

"Like you would've believed that even for a second," I laughed. "I'm not stupid, either. I know that that never would've gotten me anywhere."

"There are many things you are, Miss Swan," Clara Wolfe mused. "But I will agree that stupid is not one of them."

"I'm not sure whether you meant that to be complementary or insulting, so I'm just going to smile and make my exit."

"You're going to leave her while she's having surgery?" she asked, surprised.

"She's having surgery," I repeated her words back to her. "She's unconscious, and I guarantee that she'll still be unconscious when I get back."

"Where are you going?"

"She bled through her pajamas. Instead of trying to clean them I'm just going to get another pair. Two, for good measure. And she bled through my shirt, too. I'm going to go home and change."

"Oh, speaking of home, we'll need to set up a time for me to swing by and make sure that yours is an appropriate environment for a child."

"You want to just come with me now?"

"No, I'll give you time to make sure everything is in order," she said, gearing up to list her requirements. "She can share a room, but her roommate must be age and gender appropriate – no bunking her up with teenage boys."

"I'm nineteen. Even if I _had_ a teenage boy living with me, don't you think he'd be bunking up with _me_?_"_

"Protocol, Miss Swan. You have a right to know the requirements. You must also have healthy foods in your kitchen. It's okay to have junk foods and snacks, but their must be fruits and vegetables and everything else needed for a balanced diet." _Guess I'm going grocery shopping tonight._

"And finally, there need to be age and gender appropriate clothing, toys, books and educational materials."

"I was planning on getting those after I knew she'd be able to stay with me…" I trailed off.

"Get them soon, Miss Swan," she advised. "There doesn't need to be a stockpile of them right off the bat, but enough to prove to me that she will be taken care of. Here is my card. Call me when you've taken care of everything and we'll make an appointment for a home visit."

"Yes Ma'am," I sighed, taking the card and pocketing it. "Thank you," I said sincerely, despite my initial dislike for the woman.

"No problem. I'll see you soon."

xXoOoXx

I managed to find Grace another pair of the penguin pajamas, as well as a purple pair with white and silver stars, before heading out to pick up the groceries, making sure to stock up on cereal and cookie dough, as well as an abundance of fruits, vegetables, frozen dinners, and proteins. And bacon. Can't forget the bacon.

I took a cab back to my building, not wanting to haul my groceries halfway across town in the freezing winds, with the intent of tipping the cabbie extra to help me with all my bags but the asshole tossed me to the curb and took off before I could even make the offer. "Your loss, asshole," I shouted after him, securing my grip on the bags and struggling to the door.

"Oh dear, let me help you with that," I heard as soon as I managed to tug the door open. I turned around to see the woman from the elevator the other night rushing up the steps, grabbing the handle and holding the door open for me.

"Thank you," I breathed in relief, throwing myself into the lobby much like I had the other night.

"Don't you worry," she smiled, reaching out and taking the bags from my left hand. "I practically do this for a living, there's no reason I can't do it at home, too."

"Well my lungs and my arms are very appreciative," I joked, jabbing at the elevator button until it opened.

"Ah, yes. I thought you looked familiar," she smirked. "You're the girl from the other night. I'm glad to see you've… warmed up." I knew what she was thinking. _I'm glad to see you've… whored down. _At least that's what my semi-cynical nature imagined that she was thinking.

"Yep. Yep, that's me. There was actually a really good reason for my state of undress," I told her, pushing the three.

"I'm sure," she agreed, eyeing me skeptically. I shrugged, stepping off at three and leading the way to my unit. I unlocked the door and swung it open, stopping in the kitchen and dropping everything on the floor.

"Thank you again," I said as she set her bags on the counter. "I probably would've collapsed without you," I thought aloud, finding the bag with the pajamas and removing them to cut off the tags.

"Oh, those are adorable," she gasped, stepping closer to me to look at them. "My granddaughter would absolutely love these," she smiled, pointing at the purple ones.

"On sale at Macy's," I told her as I snipped the tags. "Got them both for twenty bucks."

"I'll keep that in mind. My granddaughter is on an extended vacation with her mother, but she's supposed to be home for Christmas. We started a silly little tradition when she was a baby, wearing brand new pajamas on Christmas Eve…. I really think these would be perfect. Do you have a daughter?" she asked, looking around for any signs of children.

"Not exactly," I said vaguely, moving into the laundry closet to toss the pajamas into the wash before moving back to put away the groceries. "Right now she's more like somebody I've taken under my wing."

"How sweet," she mused, handing me the last of the items on the counter.

"Yeah," I sighed, worrying about Grace and the next few days of our lives. As I shut the refrigerator door, a knock at the front sounded. "Huh," I muttered, excusing myself to answer the door.

I knew the girl who was behind it, but it took me a moment to put a name to her face. She was in a few of my classes but, like me, kept to herself, never really speaking to anyone else unless necessary. "Rosalie?"

"Um… yeah. Hi. I'm sorry to bother you, especially since I know you've got something going on right now, but you're like the only girl I know who doesn't run her trap all around campus, um, sorry… no offence…. but I really needed somebody to talk to. I mean, if you don't mind.

"Oh, and I brought your last exam from Crawford, and another assignment from Raymond. And Hollander assigned another project because apparently a lot of people are failing, and like I said you're really the only person I know who doesn't suck so once everyone was done picking their partners I told her I'd be yours…. which worked out because nobody else wanted to be my partner anyway and since you weren't there we were the only two left…"

I'm sure I looked like a deer caught in the headlights at all of the information she'd thrown my way in a matter of seconds. Rosalie and I had never really spoken before, so I had no idea why she would come to me of all people. "Yeah, of course. Come in." I opened the door all of the way for her, closing it quietly behind her. "Would you like anything to eat or drink? _Oh_ – I'm such an ass. Would you?" I directed at the woman. I really needed to ask her her name.

"No, but thank you. I should get out of your hair, let you ladies talk."

"Oh, I didn't realize," Rosalie rushed out. "I didn't mean to interrupt anything…. I could come back later, or not…" she trailed off, taking a step back.

"Oh, don't be silly," the woman responded, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Yeah, don't worry about it," I told Rosalie. "Thank you again for your help," I said as I walked the woman the short distance to the door. "I really did appreciate it."

"It was really no problem, dear. I won't be in town for much longer but if you need anything else before I leave, I'd be happy to help. Unit 2212."

"Thank you so much, Ma'am," I said gratefully.

"Oh, none of that. Call me Esme."

"Esme, then. That's such a pretty name."

"Thank you, Dear."

"Bella. You can call me Bella."

"Bella. Like I said, let me know if you need anything, though if not, I'm sure I'll see you around before I leave."

"Same goes for you. If you need anything, I'd be more than happy to help."

"Have a good day," she smiled, shutting the door behind her.

"Right. Drinks?" I asked again, refocusing my attention on Rosalie.

"Actually, a glass of water would be awesome, if you don't mind."

"Not at all," I told her, leading her back to the kitchen and gesturing for her to take a seat at the breakfast bar. I set her water down and she passed over the papers she'd brought for me. "Thank you," I said, appreciative. "I wasn't sure when I'd get the chance to pick up my work."

"You're welcome," she said quietly. "I know you sent an email a few days ago saying you wouldn't be in, but a couple of our professors mentioned that you weren't sure when you'd be back, so I offered to bring you your work. I've been working myself up to try to talk to you for a couple of weeks and I guess this gave me the opening I needed. I'm sorry about whatever is keeping you away, though. Is everything okay?"

"It will be," I told her. "At least I think it'll be," I amended after thinking about how I still needed to get all of the things Clara Wolfe had told me to.

"Good," she nodded. "I'm glad."

"Me too," I agreed, sitting on the stool next to hers and waiting until she was ready to talk again.

"Look. I know we're not friends," she started, playing with her now empty water glass. "I tried really hard to do this on my own. I don't have any friends, and I didn't want to bother anybody else with this, but as it turns out, it's _not _something I can do on my own, and when I thought about all of the people I had classes with that I might try to talk to, you were really the only person I could think of who I didn't think would spread it all over the campus or blatantly judge me while I was sitting right here.

"That being said, once again, I totally understand if you want to change your mind and not sit through this. If I were in your position I wouldn't want to be." She bit her lip, spinning the glass around.

"Rosalie, I'm not going to take it back. I said I'd listen to what you had to say and I will. I don't know how much help I can be to you, but I'll do what I can. Are _you _okay?"

She took a deep breath, clutching the glass, and I noticed a couple of tears start the journey down her face. "I'm pregnant," she whispered. "And I don't know what to do. I've been thinking about this for over a month, and I want to keep this baby so badly but I'm terrified that I'll resent it if I do. I'm _so _against abortion, but I really don't know if I can do this and I'm coming up on the line where it's now or never, and I can't make this decision on my own. I'm not thinking straight."

I didn't say anything at first as Rosalie pushed the glass away, laying her head in her arms on the counter and sobbing. I grabbed her hand and squeezed it. Rosalie was right; this was not something you wanted the kids in our class to know about. They were good students; they had to be to have gotten into the school, but that didn't make them good people. I didn't blame her for not going to any of them.

"Rosalie… I can't tell you what to do," I started. "I understand needing somebody to talk it over with, but it's your decision to make. Even though we don't know each other very well, I think you'd resent me if you did what I said and weren't happy with it after."

"I know I need to do it. I just… it's so hard to be in this alone. I know what I want to do, but… I don't know if it's what I should do. I don't think it's what I should do, but…." She sighed. "Why do these things always happen to me?" she whimpered. "Why can't I catch a break for once in my life?"

"Bad things happen to good people," I said. "I've experienced that more times than I'd care to admit. I know how you're feeling, to an extent," I told her, thinking of my childhood, my father's death, and Grace.

"What do I do?" she cried.

"What do you want to do?"

"I want to keep it. I want to keep it more than anything, but I live in the dorms, I had to quit my job, I don't have any savings or support, no insurance… I think keeping the baby would be the worst thing I could do for it. But I just don't think I could go through with…. With killing it."

'You don't have to, Rosalie. You could give this baby a good life somewhere else if you don't want to give it a good life with you."

"I do. I do want to give it a good life with me, but I know with me it wouldn't be a good life. I'm no mother," she laughed humorlessly. "I'm nothing."

"Don't say that. You're here, aren't you? Getting an education, seeking help when you know you need it. That's more than a lot of people can say."

"I appreciate that," she said. "I want to believe it. I've been trying to tell myself that for months, but… I _am _nothing. This never would've happened otherwise," she sobbed.

"Rosalie," I gasped. "Tell me that doesn't mean what I think it means."

"I can't," she shook her head. "I can't tell you that." I stood from my stool and threw my arms around her.

"I don't think I'm the person you should be talking to about this," I told her, "but I know someone who I think can help. I'm going to get you his number…"

"I don't know if I can be alone in a room with a man right now," she whispered. "And I definitely can't afford that."

"Don't worry about the cost," I told her. "And Peter will meet with you anywhere you want. I'll go with you, if you want."

"Really?" she whispered, grabbing my wrists around her sternum and squeezing.

"Really. I see him at least once every two weeks. You can come with me next time I go, or if you still don't know what you want to do, we can go this weekend."

"I think I'd like to go this weekend," she whispered, "if you really don't mind going with me."

"Of course not. I wouldn't have offered if I minded."

"I knew you were the right person to talk to," she said. "You're far too kind for your own good, Bella."

"I don't know about that, but I'm glad I wasn't useless."

"What do you see this guy for, if you don't mind my asking?"

"I don't do well in large crowds," I said. "He's helping me learn to control my panic attacks, among other insecurities."

"You'd never know from class," she said. "Sorry, I don't mean to be nosy. I just need to get my mind in a different place for a little while."

"Class isn't such a problem. It's more like crowded subways, or standing in the middle of a place like Times Square."

"Can I ask why?"

"It's a long story. I will tell you about it some time, but I actually have somewhere I need to get. You're welcome to tag along, if you want."

"Oh, I don't want to intrude anymore than I already have."

"You haven't intruded at all. I'm really glad I could be someone for you to talk to and lean on, if nothing else. If you want to come along I wouldn't mind at all."

"Okay," she nodded resolutely. "Yeah, I'd love to come along. I don't know that I want to be alone just yet, after letting all of that out." She stood from her stool and wiped her face with her hands, but she still had mascara smeared under her eyes.

"Here," I said, handing her a napkin.

"Thank you."

She cleaned up her face and I made sure I had the pajamas, which were luckily the kind of material that pretty much completely dried during the spin cycle, and we headed out. She didn't say anything when we reached the hospital though I saw her eyes widen. She followed me silently to the elevator and up to the pediatrics floor. I walked down the hallways to Grace's room, opening the door slowly to find her out cold but back in her bed.

Rosalie looked at Grace sadly before turning questioning eyes to me. "This is Grace," I told her. "She's the reason I'm missing class."

"What happened to her?" she asked sadly.

"What hasn't?" I countered. "There's a group called the Volturi, they're like the New York Mafia. They happened to her. She's the first person to have ever gotten away from them alive but look where it's left her. She just got out of her second surgery to fix an internal bleed and pulled stitches that she reopened this morning during a panic attack."

"How could anybody do this to a child?" she gasped, looking more closely at Grace's external injuries.

"How could anybody do it to anyone?"

"Who is she?" she asked, running a finger down Grace's arm. "Why are you here with her?"

"I found her in the subway across from my building. I took her home and then brought her to the hospital and in that time period she got attached to me. We don't know where she belongs, so I'm trying to take her home until we find out. If we don't, I'm going to adopt her."

"But you're even younger than me," she said, more curious than insulting.

"I know what it's like to be alone," I shrugged. "I have the power to keep that from happening to her, so I'm going to use it."

"You're so brave," she marveled. "I wish I could have your attitude."

"I'm not brave," I disagreed. "I like to think that I just know when to… take action. But maybe I'm just naïve."

"I don't think so. Honestly, after everything I've seen of you today, I think you're amazing."

I snorted at that. "I don't know how, but thanks."

Whimpering took our attention before either of us could say anything else. Grace was awake, and she looked terrified. "Grace," I smiled at her. "Hey, you're okay. Everything's all better now," I told her. She patted carefully at the spot she pulled the stitches from. "Hurts, huh?" I sighed.

She nodded, bottom lip thrown out in a pout and tears gathering in her eyes. She pulled at the hospital gown she was in next, obviously distressed by the fact that her pajamas were ruined. "It's okay," I told her again. "I got you some more. As soon as the doctor comes in to check you again I'll help you put them on, and I even got two pairs this time. The same ones you had before," I pulled out the penguin pajamas, "and these, too." I pulled out the purple ones with the stars and her eyes lit up as she pointed at them. "You like those, huh?" She nodded vigorously, smiling widely.

"Those it is, then." She nodded again and agreement but froze when I stepped back to put the penguin pjs back in my bag. "Oh! Grace, this is my friend Rosalie. Is it okay if she stays? I promise she won't hurt you."

Grace looked uneasy about the whole situation but agreed. Rosalie smiled in return. "Thank you, Grace," she said, stepping forward slowly and holding out her hand.

Grace nodded but refused to touch her. "Okay," Rosalie shrugged it off. "Sorry." Grace shrugged, looking nervous, so Rosalie backed up and sat down in the chair by the bed. "Better?" she asked, receiving the affirmative in return. "Okay. I can do this."

"How about I call the nurse?" I suggested. "We can get you something to help the pain." _Yes._

I pushed the button, the correct one, and a nurse bustled in just a minute later. "How are we feeling?" she asked. "I hear it's been a pretty big day."

"We were hoping for some pain relief," I told her, tilting my head towards Grace.

"That's an easy fix," she smiled, heading over to Grace's new IV and stabbing the line with a syringe. "She'll probably be out of it again in a few minutes, and Dr. Sloan will be up within the hour to check her over."

"Sounds good. Any idea how long she'll be out?"

"Probably a good few hours. Visiting hours will probably be over by the time she wakes up."

"Okay, that's fine. I have to go out and do some shopping, anyway. Do you want to come?" I invited Rosalie. "There are some things I have to have in the house before the social worker will even consider granting me temporary custody."

Rosalie looked surprised that I'd invited her. "Yeah, yeah. That'd be nice."

"Let's get on it," I smiled, heading for the door.

"Let's," she agreed.


	8. Chapter 8

...It's still Friday for some people? Sorry for the delay, but I've had some stuff going on that took precedence in my life, and I've also been working on some original stuff for another site.

* * *

"Look, if you want the smoothie that bad, get it. Don't stand here all day deliberating," I sighed exasperatedly.

"No, no, I'd better not. If I keep this baby I'm going to need everything I can keep my hands on."

"Oh for the love of… all that grief for nothing? I don't think so. Here," I said, handing her a five. "Get your damn smoothie and let's get on with our lives." Her eyes widened and she froze, staring at my hand. "Well go on," I urged. When she still didn't move I rolled my eyes, sidestepping her and handing the cash to the cashier. "Would you please get this girl a smoothie while we're still young?"

"Sure will," she smirked. "What kind?" I shrugged, stepping back and pushing Rosalie up to the counter.

"But… but I…"

"Rosalie, I consider us friends now. So as your friend, I'm going to be honest with you; if you don't tell the woman what you want I'm probably going to hit you."

"But-"

"Pick a flavor, woman!"

"Mango Mania," she muttered. "Please."

"Sure thing," the cashier smirked, handing her the change and setting to work on the smoothie. Rosalie turned to me, holding the change out silently, not meeting my eyes.

"Keep it," I told her, pushing her hand away.

"But-"

"Quit arguing! It's not a big deal!"

"Maybe not to you," she sighed. "But it is to me. I don't like handouts. I'm not a charity case."

"I never said you were, and it's not a handout. It's a friend paying for a friend's drink. I'm dragging you all over creation looking for the things I need for Grace, the least I can do is get you a smoothie."

"You're not dragging me," she disagreed. "I'm glad to have somebody to go out with. It's been a really long time since I got to do this and, despite your abrasiveness, I'm really happy to be here. So thank you."

"Well that's a new one. Most people always just called me a bitch. I'm sorry if I come off that way," I apologized. "I've been on my own for a couple of years now, but I've been told that I need to work on my filter when it comes to talking to friends. I guess I forget that they have feelings," I thought aloud.

"It's not a big deal," she repeated my words from earlier. "It's just surprising, coming from you. Before this afternoon I'd barely ever heard you speak and here you are bitching and moaning in the middle of the mall," she laughed. "I like it, actually. You remind me of my best friend," she smiled wistfully. "At least you would if we were still friends."

"I know that look. I've worn that look. She didn't stick with you through whatever you went through, so don't waste time or thoughts on her. If she were really your best friend then she'd be standing here with you right now, not me. She's not worth it," I told her.

She looked shocked and for a moment I thought I'd gone too far, as I sometimes, and by sometimes I mean oftentimes, did, but she snapped out of it quickly. "You're right. I've spent enough energy worrying about her and wishing we were still friends but I doubt she's done the same."

"If history is anything to go by, she hasn't," I told her sadly.

"Here you go, ladies," the cashier interrupted, holding the smoothie out towards Rosalie.

"Thank you," she smiled gratefully, bringing the straw to her mouth immediately. "And thank you," she directed at me.

"You're welcome. Now let's go." I headed off in the direction of the teacher's store, my last stop for the night. I'd already picked up a couple pairs of jeans and a few sweaters for Grace, as well as a fluffy winter coat and some slippers and a pair of boots, but I didn't want to get too much. The pajamas I'd gotten for her were a 3T, but they were at least a size too big, so I didn't know what the correct size for her was. Plus, now that she was being properly cared for, she would probably being to put on the weight that she'd clearly lost rather quickly, and I didn't want to have an entire wardrobe for her only for it to be too small in a matter of weeks.

Now all that was left to pick up were some books and educational toys and materials. I found a few books based off of various Disney movies and a small collection of Dr. Seuss books, as well as a Little Mermaid coloring book and an activity book that had things like connect-the-dots, hidden pictures, color by number and spot-the-differences. I knew I had some board games hidden away somewhere, so I skipped over that aisle and grabbed a couple of puzzles and a lego set, which said ages 6 and up but I figured if I supervised her everything would be fine.

I paid for everything and Rosalie and I headed home. I still had to go grocery shopping but that could wait until right before Clara Wolfe came over. "Do you want to order a pizza or something?" I asked as we deposited my bags on the couch. "I'm starving."

"Sounds good to me," she agreed, albeit somewhat hesitantly.

"What now?"

"I just… are you sure you don't mind me hanging out?"

"I'm going to if you don't quit asking me," I answered.

"Okay," she nodded. "Pizza it is, then." I made the call and twenty minutes later Georgio was knocking on the door, two boxes and a bottle of orange soda in hand.

"Going all out tonight, huh Bella?" he smirked, handing me the food.

"Indeed we are, Georgio." I handed him twenty-five bucks, which was more than enough to cover dinner, and sent him on his way.

"Thanks, Bella," he grinned, pocketing the money.

"Welcome." The boy worked his ass off. In the two years I'd been ordering from his dad he'd never not been my delivery boy. "Dinner is served." I grabbed a pair of glasses from the cabinet and brought all of the food into the living room, setting it on the coffee table and sweeping the bags off of the couch. I took a piece of pizza and a couple of breadsticks before turning on the television. "Any preferences?"

"I don't even know what's on right now. Anything but sports, really," she requested.

"Can do." I set to channel-surfing, passing the remote off to Rosalie when my phone rang out. "Hello?" I asked, slightly confused by the unknown number and the screaming in the background.

"Miss Swan?"

"Yeah?"

"This is Doctor Sloan. I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm having a little trouble with Grace. She won't let me near her and I need to check her incision site and replace her bandages."

"I'll be right there," I sighed, shoving the last of my crust down my throat and chugging the rest of my Fanta. "I've gotta go back to the hospital," I told Rosalie, putting my coat on. "You wanna come or chill here?"

"Oh! Uh, I'll stay here?" she questioned.

"Okay?" I questioned back. "I'll be back in a bit, I guess. There's a spare key in the drawer next to the refrigerator – lock the door if you leave, please."

"Sure thing."

xXoOoXx

"Grace?" I stopped right next to her, calling her name softly. She looked up from her now common position of curling in on herself. "Can I sit down next to you?"

She nodded, scooting her butt over to make room. "Thank you," I smiled, falling into place on her right. "Do you think that you could let Doctor Sloan take a look at you?"

She sighed, looking from him to me and back. She held her hand up to me and I took it, letting her squeeze it as Doctor Sloan came to stand on the other side of the bed.

"This'll be real quick," he promised, crouching next to her. "I just need to check on the booboos on your belly and put a new bandage on your arm, okay? I bet they're starting to itch again…" She nodded, holding out the bandaged arm to him. "Alright, we can do that part first."

He removed the wrapping and pulled out an alcohol wipe. "Little sting," he reminded her, rubbing it down the injuries. "Looking good, Little Lady," he told her, pulling out an abnormally long Band-Aid. "Looks like you're all done with the mummy dressings." She giggled at that, putting both of her arms out in front of her, scrunching up her face, and groaning, sending herself into a small fit of hysterics.

"Okay, okay, Little Mummy," Dr. Sloan amended, putting her arms back to her sides gently. "There'll be time for that later, but right now we need to look at your belly." She took a deep breath to calm herself down, letting him lift her shirt in the front but recoiling when he moved to touch her.

"It's okay, Grace," I assured her, pushing her forward again. "He's not going to hurt you."

She huffed, putting her hand on top of Dr. Sloan's and leveling him with a glare before leaning into me and letting him do his thing. "Site looks good," he commented, preparing a new covering for the area she'd torn earlier. "This probably set her release date back by at least a few days, but, as long as she remains calm, I don't foresee any other complications."

"Awesome. Was this all you had to do?"

"For tonight. Tomorrow afternoon we'll take her down for a new set of scans, and another set in a few days, and we'll play it by ear from there. I'd say we can have her out of here in a week at the earliest, two and a half at the latest, so long as nothing else goes wrong."

"Do you hear that, Grace?" I asked her quietly, laying my head against hers. "You can go home soon, if you stay calm. You have to stay calm, okay? Even if I'm not here. The people here are not going to hurt you." She turned herself into me, shoving her face into my shirt and crying into it. "That's not exactly the response I was looking for," I sighed, wrapping my arms around her.

"It's been a busy day," Dr. Sloan said, standing up. "She'll probably wear herself out soon. You're welcome to stay with her until then."

"Thank you."

"Thank _you_ for coming in."

xXoOoXx

I ended up falling asleep before Grace did and didn't make it home until very early the next morning. I walked in to find Rosalie conked out on the couch and threw the blanket on the back over her before heading to bed myself.

It was almost ten when I woke up again so I made a call to Peter, managing to get us a slot later that night. I took a shower and got changed, offering the opportunity to Rosalie when I was done. She was both taller and wider than me but I found a pair of sweats that fit her pretty well.

When we were both ready we headed out to pick up some breakfast at the bakery on the corner. I told her about our meeting with Peter and she thanked me profusely after making sure that I was willing to go with her. She agreed to meet me at the hospital at four so that we could go together.

I made my to the hospital, stopping at a little hole in the wall florist to pick up a small bouquet of pink roses for Grace. They wrapped them together with a matching pink ribbon and deposited them into a small gray vase with pink swirly designs on it. It sounded cute when it was described to me but in the end it was a lot of fucking pink.

Completely opposite to me, Grace was in love with it. She stretched as far as she could without cringing to pat the table next to her bed and when I set it down she produced the original, wilting rose to add to the new bunch.

I found SpongeBob for Grace to watch and handed her the SpongeBob coloring book and her colored pencils and when I was sure she was set I pulled out the work Rosalie had brought me and planned out how I was going to get it all done in my head.

I had a few hours before Rosalie would meet me here so I outlined the singular assignment and then jotted down some ideas for our project.

I worked until I couldn't work anymore and then I moved over and colored with Grace for a while. The book was almost done – I'd have to bring in one of the new ones the next day.

When Grace decided she was done coloring we vegged out, watching various kiddy shows until Rosalie got there.

She made it a point to acknowledge Grace, giving her a stuffed penguin, probably because of my pajama choice, and a book that seemed to go with it. Grace smiled at her, setting the penguin next to the elephant I'd given her and opening the book up on her lap, flipping through the pages slowly.

"We'll see you later, okay Grace?" I asked.

She nodded, engrossed in her book. "Remember that if Dr. Sloan comes in it's okay to let him look at you."

She nodded again, turning another page. Book lover. Okay, I could work with that.

xXoOoXx

"You ready?" I asked, offering Rosalie my hand before we stepped into the waiting room.

She nodded, trying to look brave.

"Peter's a really good guy," I told her again. "He won't steer you wrong." We went inside and signed in, sitting down to wait.

It didn't take long for her name to be called and when I stood up she turned to me. "I think I'm going to go in alone," she whispered.

"Good," I encouraged. "That's good. I'll be right out here if you need me."

"I know. Thank you, Bella. Really. If it weren't for you I would never be able to be here, doing this. Especially by myself."

xXoOoXx

While Rosalie was in with Peter I called Clara Wolfe's office, making an appointment for her to come by my apartment the afternoon after next. All that was left for me to do was get the grocery shopping done and clean up a bit.

I wrote out a list of foods to get while waiting for Rosalie, who made it through the entire hour, plus a little more, of her appointment time. She came out in tears at the end of it but stood taller than when she'd gone in.

"You good?" I asked, standing up.

"Yeah," she sniffed, wiping her face. "I'm good."

"Good." Right before we left the waiting room Peter came out to talk to me.

"You missed your appointment, Bella."

"Yeah, I've got some stuff going on. I'll reschedule when I can, Petey."

"How are you doing?"

"Good, actually. Not great, but good. Hey, do you do kids?"

"No, but I have a few colleagues that do… why do you ask?"

"I know a girl who's almost definitely going to need some form of therapy."

"Well let me know. I'll get you their numbers."

"Thanks. And thanks for making this appointment on such short notice."

"It was my pleasure. I hope you figure it all out, Rosalie. My door is always open."

"Thank you," she smiled, reaching out to shake his hand. "I appreciate that."

xXoOoXx

"I'm so tired," I complained, tossing my empty plate onto the coffee table.

"Me too," Rosalie yawned, standing up. "I better get back to my room before my roommate thinks I've disappeared and starts doing things with my stuff."

"Shitty girl?"

"The _worst_," she complained.

"Here," I told her, giving her the key to my door again. "Couch is always open."

She looked at it longingly, hesitation clear in her expression. "I-" she sighed.

"Take it," I insisted.

"You barely know me," she argued.

"I could be a serial killer."

"I don't think you are," I laughed.

"I could come in in the night and steal your TV."

"I need a new one, anyway."

"Thank you," she laughed, taking it.

"You're welcome," I said as she opened the door. "I've got some ideas for our project, so drop by when you've got some time and we can talk about it. If I'm not here I'm at the hospital."

"Sounds good. And thank you again, for everything."

"If you don't stop thanking me I'm going to hit you," I told her seriously. "You're welcome. For it all. Now chill out."

"Right. See ya soon, then."

"You will indeed. Have a good night." I locked the door behind her, cleaning up the rest of the leftover pizza from last night before falling into bed.


	9. Chapter 9

"I thought this was supposed to be the easy part," I complained, looking at all of my options for cereal. "Why do we need so many options? There are hundreds of kinds here!"

"I liked Apple Jacks when I was little," Rosalie offered.

"What the hell are Apple Jacks?"

"Look for a green box that says 'Apple Jacks,'" she said. "It'll probably have a red apple and a stick of cinnamon personified."

"I don't see that."

"Cinnamon Toast Crunch. White box with different colored letters and a bowl of cereal on the front. Might have cannibalistic squares, too."

"I don't see that either!"

"Frosted Mini Wheats? Orange box with a different bowl of cereal on it? One might also be personified."

"Oh, I actually know what those are… hmmm…. Oh, here we go." I grabbed a couple of boxes and tossed them into the cart. "Oh, and the Apple Jacks are right next to them." I grabbed a box of them, too.

"Why don't you just take her to the store with you and let her look? I'm sure she knows what she wants."

"I have to have stuff for her before Clara Wolfe will grant me custody."

"Cereal is not a requirement."

"But kids like cereal, don't they?"

"Well sure, but that's not all they like. Get her some Pop-Tarts or Toaster Strudel. Waffles, donuts, muffins."

"What the hell is a toaster strudel?"

"Okay, seriously. Did you grow up under a rock?"

"That would've been a step-up from my house."

"Oh, Bella, I'm sorry! I didn't know…"

"I know you didn't. So I'm in front of the Pop-Tarts but I don't see any Toaster Strudel."

"It's in the frozen section."

"Oh, for the love of- Fine. Pop-Tarts. What kind?"

"Get whatever sounds good to you, that way if she doesn't like it you can eat it without it going to waste."

"Oh. Good idea. Okay, strawberry, that's good… cookie dough? That's interesting… S'mores? S'mores is not a breakfast flavor. Hot fudge sundae? What the hell kind of food is this?"

"It's delicious and unhealthy! That's the point."

"Huh. We'll stick with strawberry for now. Toaster Strudel?"

"Frozen section," she reminded me again.

"Right. And waffles?"

"Also frozen. Seriously, what do you eat?"

"Take-out. I'm a fan of take-out. Okay, apple? Apple sounds good. What kind of waffles?"

"Cinnamon… blueberry…. chocolate-chip… they're all good."

"They look good. Might as well get all of them. What do I feed her for lunch?"

"What do you think you feed her for lunch?! She's a tiny human, not a dog. You don't need to find specially formulate food. Get some hotdogs, deli meat and bread, peanut butter and jelly… fish sticks, chicken nuggets, hamburgers and the like can all double as dinner. It's not difficult, Bella. Don't over think it.

"…You're not answering me. You're over thinking it. What are you over thinking?"

"Milk."

"What about it?"

"There're so many kinds. Fat-free, low-fat, 2%, Lactaid, white, chocolate, strawberry…"

"Get whole white milk for now."

"Why?"

"Just do it," she sighed, exasperated.

"No, seriously, I want to know why. What's the difference?"

"Whole milk is fattier, which, if she's not allergic to it, will help her in gaining weight if she drinks it regularly."

"There are milk allergies?!"

"Yes, but more commonly it's lactose-intolerance. That's what Lactaid is, lactose-free milk. If she gets diarrhea after drinking the milk then try Lactaid instead."

"Why did I think I could do this? This is a terrible idea. I don't know anything about raising a child. What the hell was I thinking?!" I panicked, my chest tightening and my throat closing.

"Deep breaths, Bella," Rosalie urged me. "This is not the time or place to panic."

"You don't even know where I am, how would you know?" I snapped.

"I know exactly where you are. You're standing in front of the dairy section, which is not an appropriate place to panic."

"Smart-ass," I grumbled, fighting to catch my breath.

"That's it," she urged.

My hands shook as I grabbed my head, bending forward to help myself breathe. I grasped the edge of the refrigerator as I calmed down, feeling the color slowly return to my face as I lifted myself back into a standing position.

I took a few deep breaths for good measure, wiping the sweat of my palms off on my jeans and turning back to move my cart along. "Oh," I gasped, realize that there was a small crowd watching me. "I'm sorry," I whispered, darting through a gap to continue.

"Alright, so is it cool to feed her a frozen dinner?"

"Get the ones specifically for kids for now, either Lunchables, which aren't frozen, or Kid Cuisine, which are. Neither of those are good for her, though, so after she gets back to the right weight I'd switch to Smart Ones or Healthy Choice if she likes them, but not for every night. They're better for her, but not great."

"Macaroni and cheese. That's good, right?"

"Yeah. You can even cut up hotdogs or add ground beef or turkey in with it."

"Sounds good," I agreed, going to find everything she'd listed off.

"And don't forget the fruits and vegetables. Those _are _a requirement."

"Alright, I can handle those."

"You sure?"

"I think so. Thank you," I offered lamely. "I don't think I would've gotten through this so unscathed on my own."

"I don't think you would've either. God, that was a nightmare and I wasn't even there."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Alright, I've got about an hour before she gets to my apartment and I still want to find some candy and I still have to pay and get all of this shit in the cabinets."

"Let me know how it goes?" she requested.

"Of course. I'll talk to you later. And seriously, at the risk of sounding exactly like you, thank you. I really appreciate it."

"No problemo, chico."

"That's not right…"

"Oh. Really?"

xXoOoXx

I'd barely even begun putting the food away when I heard her knock. I put the jar I was holding back on the breakfast bar and made my way to the door. "You certainly are punctual," I tried to joke, stepping back to let her in. "Would you like anything to drink?" I offered, leading her back to the kitchen so that I could get the frozen things put away before they melted.

"No, thank you."

"Sorry about the mess," I apologized, eyeing the bags strewn all about. "I ran into a little difficulty at the grocery store, but I thought I'd have everything away in time."

"Mhmm," she muttered, looking around. I tossed everything that needed to be in the freezer and fridge in, not worrying about organization. I could fix everything later. I grabbed all of the empty bags up and tossed them in the trash before turning back to Clara Wolfe.

"Okay. So how does this work?"

"Aren't you going to put this away?" she asked, pointing at the mess on the counter.

"It can wait until later," I said. "This is the stuff that won't go bad or anything if it's left out."

"Go ahead and put it away, Miss Swan. I'm not in any hurry."

"Thanks," I sighed, putting everything away in the cabinets that I wanted them in. I'd worry about rearranging them later, too.

"Alright, done," I gasped, slightly out of breath.

"Please relax, Miss Swan. Working yourself up and rushing through everything will not make this any easier on you."

"Of course not, I just… yeah. Okay."

"Let's get started then. Why don't we start off with a tour of the living arrangements…?"

"Sure," I agreed. "This is the kitchen, obviously, and the living room," I said, gesturing to the wannabe living space that contained my couch, entertainment center, and a bookcase. "The porch is just a little balcony," I said, pulling the shades to the side, revealing the sliding glass doors.

"Does that door lock?"

"Of course." I demonstrated by tugging at the handle. "I don't go out very often, so it's almost never unlocked." I pulled the shades back into place and moved back towards the kitchen. "That's just a closet," I said, pointing at the door next to the front door, "and that's a little laundry room," I said, turning and pointing at the door at the beginning of the hallway. I led her down to the end and opened the door to my room. "This is my bedroom, obviously," I said, pausing while she took in my furniture, "and the bathroom."

"This is the only bedroom?" she asked skeptically.

"I already left a message for the super, but he's out of town. I don't know when he'll be back but as soon as he is I'm putting in a request for a larger unit. I don't know how long it'll take for one to become available, though – this building is pretty popular.

"I figured she could sleep in here until I got her her own room and I could sleep on the couch – it pulls out."

"Hmm," she muttered once more. "Are these the girl's clothes?" she asked, pointing at the small stack on the bench at the end of my bed.

"Yes. I got enough for her to wear home from the hospital and for a couple of days after. I'm not sure about her size, and even if I was, she wouldn't be able to wear them for very long, hopefully. She was severely underweight when I found her and if everything goes well, she'll be back tp her proper weight soon. I want to make sure it'll fit right when I get her a whole wardrobe."

"Okay. That's reasonable," she said, looking through the clothes. "You forgot socks…"

"Shit!" I swore, rubbing my hands over my face.

She ignored my outburst, moving over to look at the books and toys I'd bought.

"I know there aren't very many, but I wanted to find out what she was into before I went crazy," I told her, watching as she leafed through the activity book.

"That's fine. My guess is she won't be very interested in playing for a few weeks."

"I don't know," I disagreed. "We've been coloring in the hospital, and I got her a travel-sized board game that she seems to enjoy. My friend Rosalie brought her a book, too, which she likes to leaf through on her own."

"Miss Swan," she sighed disapprovingly, ignoring my story. "This is not appropriate," she told me, holding out the box of Legos.

"Why not?" I asked defensively. "It's not like I'm going to let her eat them. I'll be there with her, if she even wants to play with them."

"It says right one the box, ages six and up."

"Fine, I won't give her the Legos," I said, snatching them and throwing them to the top of the closet.

She sighed, filling out something on a clipboard she'd pulled from her bag, and turned to me. My throat was suddenly bone dry and I struggled to swallow. _Shit. _I knew this was a bad idea. I knew I couldn't handle this, and now I wasn't even going to get the chance to try. Now _she _thinks I'm abrasive and rude and inappropriate and unfit and -

"She has to have her own room," she told me.

"I know," I whispered, trying to control my breathing, "but there's nothing I can do about it right now. I can't control the superintendent and I can't force somebody to move out of their apartment just because I want it."

"I understand that. I'm just making it known that she needs to have her own bedroom. And I know that you already know that she needs more clothes than this, and more things to play with."

"I do."

"Well then, as long as we're on the same page, I'm going to go ahead and grant you temporary custody on a six-month probationary period. I will be making periodic, unscheduled visits to see how she is fairing. During this time, you will be considered her legal guardian, able to make medical decisions regarding her, and you will be allowed to enroll her in daycare or other extracurricular activities, but you will not be allowed to take her out of the country. If you move from this building you will be required to update your address with us immediately, and you must receive permission if you wish to move to another state.

"The first few months should be an adjustment period, to get her used to being safe and secure and in a new home, but once she is settled she needs to be evaluated by a pediatric psychiatrist. If you haven't been out and about with her by this point, it would be a good time to start readjusting her to being out in public.

"My understanding is that she's somewhere around three years old, so during this period it will not be required to enroll her in school, however I expect to find her at an appropriate developmental age while she is under your care.

"They will continue to search for her family while she is here. If they have not been found after the six month probationary period, and if I determine that she is happy and in good hands here, you will be allowed to petition for more permanent legal guardianship.

"If, a year from today, her family has still not been located, and you wish to proceed, you will be allowed to file for adoption and you will be assigned a court date.

"Do you understand everything?"

"Uh… yeah, yes, yes," I managed to get out, shell-shocked. "Got it."

"Do you have any questions?"

"No, I got everything."

"Good. You have my number – if you come across any problems or have any questions, feel free to call me."

"Thank you, Ms. Wolfe."

"You're welcome, Miss Swan. I was very skeptical about you in the beginning, but I'm glad to see that I was wrong about you."

I walked her to the door, thanking her again for her time, before pulling out my phone to call Rosalie back.

"Well?" she asked, skipping over the normal formalities.

"She's mine for the next six months," I laughed, not quite believing it yet. "And if her family isn't found by then, the next six months after that and after that, if I want, she's mine for the rest of my life."

"Ready for that?" she asked.

"Not in the slightest."

"You've got time," she assured me.

"I do. Time is good."

"It is – you'll be able to adjust to having a kid around, and you'll get to decide whether or not you want to keep that responsibility. It's not now or never."

"Yeah," I sighed, knowing that there was no way I wouldn't keep her if her family wasn't found. I couldn't do that to her. "What about you, Rosalie? Any further in your decision?"

"Not really. For me it _is _now or never… It's not something I ever thought I'd have to decide."

"I hear you there," I told her. "If you need to talk it over again, I'm here."

"I know you are."

"Would you take that outside? God!" I heard.

"Bitchy roommate?"

"Who else would it be?" she sighed. "Talk to you later?"

"Of course. Dinner tomorrow? We can start on our project."

"Yeah, sounds good."


	10. Chapter 10

**As much as I liked the idea of updating on the same day everytime, since I already made you wait like a month I didn't want to make you wait another two days. So. My completely legitimate explanation for the excessive lack of updates: Since the last chapter, I've taken and passed my EMT practicals (WOO!), and have moved into my dorm and become a full-time undecided (bio/chem) science major (stuck in a Calculus 2 class, which I absolutely detest(not to mention how much I suck at Calculus)). On top of all of my college studying, I'm studying to take the National Registry Exam so that I can finally complete my EMT certification. **

**Anywayyyy. Enjoy!  
**

* * *

It was two weeks before Grace was ready to be discharged. Another panic attack had caused her to tear the outer stitches in her abdomen again and a brief fever had knocked her out for almost two days, but her latest set of scans showed the internal bruising to be almost completely cleared up and, after proving that she could walk without assistance, albeit at the pace of a slug, Dr. Sloan had cleared her to go home.

He warned me to watch out for infection for the next few weeks, looking out for fever and malaise, among a slew of other heinous sounding symptoms.

He gave me a bottle of medicine to help her sleep through the night and reminded me to give her her antibiotics at the same time twice a day for two more weeks, with food, and to not give her anything with aspirin for at least a month, and gave me his personal cell number before handing me a stack of paperwork to sign and then, finally, Grace got to leave the hospital.

I helped Grace into one of her new pairs of jeans and a light blue sweater before zipping her up in her fluffy winter coat and fuzzy boots (with one of the pairs of socks I'd gone back out for, along with a few other things, thank you very much). Doctor Sloan lifted her from the bed and into the awaiting wheelchair and, just before he wheeled her out of the room, I stuck a fuzzy grey hat that matched her boots on her head. She blinked up at me, fighting tears as she tugged it down to cover her scalp.

She had taken it upon herself one night to make it to the bathroom. Nobody knows how long she was frozen in front of the mirror for before the night nurse found her, tears streaming down her face, bottom lip clamped down to keep quiet, hands clutching at her shredded locks. Since then she'd kept the first hat I'd brought on 24-7, taking it off for the first time this morning so that Dr. Sloan could do a complete checkup before releasing her.

Grace clutched her elephant, penguin, and book as we started our trek down to the front entrance, her vase of roses and my copies of the discharge papers in my hands. I hailed a cab once we made it to the sidewalk, sliding in first and pulling Grace into my lap once Dr. Sloan had lifted her from the chair and set her in the car.

"Don't be afraid to call me anytime if anything comes up or if you have any questions," he said, leaning into the back.

"I won't," I assured him. "Thank you so much."

"It's what I'm here for," he shrugged it off. "Here," he added, pulling something from his pocket. "I meant to discuss this with you earlier but didn't get the chance when I got called away. This is an appointment card for Grace's first follow-up. If you can't make it, just call to reschedule, but we don't want to go more than two weeks before seeing her again."

"Of course we'll be there."

"Just make note that I want to see her at my office as opposed to here. I think it may be less stressful."

"Which is exactly what we need. Thank you again, for being there yourself and not sending everyone else in to do your dirty work."

"Not how I roll, Miss Swan. I'll see you in a couple of weeks. See you, Grace," he said, turning his attention. "Take it easy, 'kay?"

She nodded, both arms around my neck, head against my shoulder, looking in his general direction but avoiding looking him right in the eye. He nodded back, shutting the door and patting the roof just like in the movies as the cab pulled away from the curb.

I absolutely hated cabs – there was no reason to pay to sit in traffic when my legs could get me there in half the time - but I lived a good few blocks from the hospital and it was far too cold to walk with Grace when it wasn't an emergency.

As I suspected, we were stuck in traffic for almost an hour. Grace had fallen asleep shortly after we left the hospital, so I stuck her stuffed animals and discharge paperwork in my backpack, hauling her into my arms. She immediately turned her face into my neck, wrapping her arms around me and holding herself secure by her wrist.

I made my way into the building as quickly as possible, reassuring her that it was all right as I felt her little body begin to shake. "We're inside now, Grace," I whispered, stroking her back. "Everything's okay."

I hurried to the elevator, pressing the button as the door to the stairwell was thrown open. Grace cringed, pressing her face into me so hard I could feel her teeth, as Esme ran out in a panic, nearly bowling me over in the process.

"Oh, Bella, I'm so sorry," she croaked, sidestepping me and moving to run off.

"Esme, what's wrong?" I asked, concerned.

"I have to go home," she choked, checking her watch. "My… She … I…. I have to go."

"This isn't home?" I asked, surprised.

"No. Oh, God no. No, I have to go home," she repeated, tears leaking out of her eyes. "I have to get there."

"You should go, then."

"Yeah, yes. Yes, I need to go," she muttered, moving to run off again. "Oh! Dear, would you mind terribly doing me a favor? This is my card," she sniffed, rummaging through her purse. "And this is my mailbox key, number 916. I'm expecting a very important delivery in the next week or two. Would you mind forwarding it to the address on the card? I'll be happy to reimburse you."

"Yeah, sure. Don't worry about it," I said, removing my hand from Grace's back and taking the key and card. "I hope that you figure out whatever is going on," I said.

Her lip trembled and the tears fell faster. "Me too," she agreed. "I'm glad to see everything worked out for you," she said, nodding to Grace. "Keep her close," she sighed, giving me a tight, watery smile and then turning, finally disappearing.

I hugged Grace tightly, shushing the tiny sobs that Esme had invoked, unsure what to make of the conversation. The elevator dinged after a few more moments and, after letting off the creepy old man that lived on the sixth floor, took us to three. I juggled Grace and the items Esme had given me, trying to get my own key in the door without dropping anything. Once successful, I let my bag fall from my back, kicking the door shut and falling into the couch. "We're home now, Grace," I whispered, rubbing her back and pulling her away from me. "Just you and me, okay? Nobody else."

She lifted her head a little, taking in the surrounding emptiness before allowing me to let go of her. Pulling herself up gingerly, she clutched the back of the couch, further scrutinizing the room. Her eyes zeroed in on the hallway. "Do you want to look around?" I offered.

She nodded quietly, keeping her eyes on the hallway as I lifted her up. "It's just a hallway," I said, walking through it slowly. "Nobody there." I brought her into my bedroom, closet, and bathroom before taking her back to the living room. She gasped, pointing at the closet in the hall. "Just a closet," I assured her, opening it. "A couple of blankets and some old clothes… some shoes. Nobody there either."

I shut the door and moved into the kitchen, opening the pantry and showing her that before she had to ask. "See? Nothing here. Nobody's in the apartment but you and me."

She nodded again, stretching her hand out towards the box of Pop-Tarts. "Hungry?" I opened the box and then a package, handing her one of the pastries. While she munched on it I brought her back to the couch, setting her down on the first cushion.

She curled into the corner and shivered, eyes wandering around the room again as she chewed her food. I turned the TV on, finding the Disney channel, before standing to go find her a blanket. She cried out as I moved, sitting back up and reaching for me.

"It's okay," I reassured her once more. "Just you and me, remember? I'm gonna go get you a blanket, right in that closet." I moved slowly, letting her track me as I opened the hall closet and pulled down a fluffy spare comforter.

I brought the comforter back and draped it over her before sitting down on the opposite end of the couch. She inched her way towards me for the next hour, until she was curled into my side. We spent the rest of the day like that, and when she fell asleep I moved her into my bed and settled back onto the couch for the night.

Rosalie showed up on the second day just before dinnertime, pizza and a stack of newly purchased kid-friendly movies in hand. Grace chose Tangled for the night's entertainment, squeezing in between me and the arm of the couch so that she didn't have to sit next to Rosalie.

On the third night I woke up to screaming, finding Grace wandering disorientedly into the furniture in my room. "Oh, Grace," I sighed. "Calm down, Sweetheart. It's okay, I'm right here." I scooped her back up and brought her back to bed, laying down next to her as she cried. "Are you hurting?" I asked, rubbing her back. She buried her face in the pillow, shaking her head. "Do you need to go to the bathroom?" Nope.

She slowly calmed down and, once I was sure she was sleeping, I went back to the living room. On the fourth, fifth, and sixth nights she made it a little farther before losing her way, crying out in protest until I brought her back to bed. On the seventh night I woke up to her poking my face, silent tears streaming down her face as she rubbed her forehead.

I jumped up, but she didn't feel warm. She refused to settle back down so I gave her sip of the medicine that was supposed to help her sleep and we laid on the couch and watched Scooby Doo reruns. She seemed back to normal the next morning, so we spent the day coloring and watching cartoons. Rosalie came over for dinner again and, after Grace fell asleep, we worked some more on our project. She told me about seeing Peter again and trying to find a job, for which luck has not been on her side.

We wrapped up the assignment shortly after two and I crashed before she was even out the door. I knew something was wrong as soon as the morning sunlight pierced my eyelids. I bolted up, the apartment deadly silent as I ran towards my bedroom. The door was still cracked, so she hadn't come out in the middle of the night. I threw it into the wall in my haste to check on her and she never even flinched.

Her face was bright red, her pajamas soaked through with sweat. She moaned as I removed the sheet that was covering her, whining as I stripped her of her soaked pjs and quickly dressed her in dry ones. I got her stupid marshmallow coat on in record time and we were out the door. Forgoing traffic to get to the hospital quickly, I darted in and out of pedestrians, juggling Grace in my arms and my cell against my ear.

"Sloane," he answered, sounded distracted.

"Dr. Sloane, it's Bella Swan. Grace's got a fever and she won't wake up."

"Get here now."

"I'm eight blocks away," I said as he ordered someone else to clear our CT and to set up a room.

"We'll meet you at the Emergency Room entrance."

xXoOoXx

"Her scans are clear and her incision site is fine. Whatever is attacking her is working from the inside. I don't think it's pneumonia – her lungs are clear and she's breathing fine. We've already sent her blood to the lab and we're setting her up with an IV antibiotic drip.

"She hasn't woken up yet, but she is responsive to painful and verbal stimuli and her pupillary response is good. What happened?"

"I don't know. She was fine yesterday…. Two nights ago she came to me in the middle of the night a little teary. She was rubbing her head but she wasn't warm so I gave her some of the sleeping medicine and brought her back to bed after it kicked in. She was fine yesterday and this is how I found her this morning. I don't understand… I've been giving her the antibiotics… every day at the same time… she's been good," I cried.

"The new antibiotics are just a precaution. Whatever she's got is probably a virus – in all actuality it probably has nothing to do with the surgery and previous hospital stay and everything to do with cruddy timing. But because of the surgery and everything else going on, her immune system is compromised. That's why we're getting her set up again. But since we don't know what it is, and we can't afford to have her down again once it clears up, why don't you go home and clean? Everything. Strip the sheets and the curtains and wash them. Disinfect the counters and the floors, shampoo the carpets, bleach the tub and the shower and the toilet. Just clean _everything_."

"But what about-"

"She's out for the count, Bella. She will be for a while, by the looks of it. We're going to have somebody at her side at all times, but she won't even know you're gone. So go home. Clean your house. Do your homework. I'll call you if anything changes and, if I don't, come back tonight. Bring her her penguin and her elephant, something to distract her from the fact that she's trapped here again."

"I can do that," I agreed, nodding rather excessively. "Please fix her, Dr. Sloan," I begged, tearing up. "Please make her better."

"Hey now," he soothed. "I practically brought her back from the dead. We're going to get through this. She'll be back home in no time."


	11. Chapter 11

**Hey. Sorry. Enjoy.**

* * *

No time turned out to be another week. Grace's external incision had been fine, but one of her internal sites had managed to become inflamed, causing what was left of her immune system to focus all of its energy there. It'd caused her fever, which'd caused the red skin, sweat, and semi-conscious state. Dr. Sloan upped her already upped antibiotics and kept her for an extra three days after the infection had cleared before he let her come back home.

She'd spent the majority of her first day back sleeping, _Beauty and the Beast _on repeat in the background. I made a sandwhich for myself and sprawled out infront of the couch while she dozed, trying to catch up on my last report for sociology. The semester was way over but I'd screwed the first attempt up so poorly that, taking the situation into consideration, she gave me a chance to resubmit.

I wrapped it up a couple of hours later, the sun almost set and Belle about to borrow the same book for the sixth time that day. I pulled myself off of the floor like a cat, arching my back to relieve my stiff muscles. Grace was _still _asleep so I felt comfortable leaving her alone to go finish the laundry I'd put in the night before, tossing the pile from the dryer into the basket and hauling it into my bedroom to fold.

Shortly after I'd begun the thrilling task, little pops started sounding from various directions. It wasn't until a colorful flash of light, a much louder crack accompanying it, lit up the room that I realized what the date meant.

"Aw, shit," I swore, dropping the shirt in my hands onto the bed and dashing out to the living room. Turns out I needn't have worried; Grace was sleepily stumbling her way to the balcony doors, pulling the curtains out of the way as best as she could and pressing her palms and her nose against the glass.

"You like fireworks?" I asked, pleasantly surprised as I knelt beside her.

She gasped in response, not hearing me as I crept up beside her. She nodded, a grin sneaking its way onto her face as she went back to watching the show.

"Do you wanna get a better look?" I offered, looking at the skyline, mostly blocked by surrounding buildings, and back at her.

She nodded eagerly, coughing into my face in her excitement. _Lovely_. Her infection had cleared up nicely but she'd developed a case of the sniffles in the hospital. "Let's go," I smiled, beckoning towards the closet. I put her parka, hat, and a scarf on before hoisting Grace up and onto my hip, letting her lay her head against my shoulder as we made our way to the elevator.

I knelt down and pointed to the button for eighteen, letting Grace push it for me. We got off and entered the stairwell, taking the final flight to get to the roof. "How's this?" I propped the door open with the brick left just to the side of it and turned, letting Grace see the open sky directly ahead of us.

"Wow," she breathed, so quiet I'm not even sure she really said it, as bursts of nearly every color of the rainbow lit up the sky all around us. We could see many of the homemade displays from other rooftops and, looking carefully, tiny bursts of light from the other side of the sound.

Twenty minutes in she put her head back down on my shoulder, but nearly an hour passed before she started to shake, the cold getting to her. "Ready to go in?" I asked, laying my cheek on top of her hair. She shook her head, protesting despite her obvious exhaustion.

I leaned forward to find her eyes closed, fluttering against the light, wintery breeze. Dr. Sloane had said she'd probably be tired but I hadn't expected this. I shifted her in my arms a bit and brought her back inside, laying her in my bed when we got back instead of the couch. I turned the radio on, hoping some music would help muffle the midnight fireworks, and went to bed myself.

xXoOoXx

The superintendent finally called me with an apartment opening in March, saying it wasn't exactly what I'd requested but that another one might not be available for a while. He gave me the key to take a look at it, under the condition I have it back to him in an hour or risk termination of my lease. _Yeah… okay_, I thought, taking it from his grasp and leaving the office.

I took the elevator up to seventeen, coming to find the right apartment at the very end of the hall. I practically fell into the apartment as I shoved the sticking door open, gaping at the amount of light streaming into the living room.

The entrance looked just like our current unit, the living room to the left and the kitchen to the right, but each room was noticeably larger and this kitchen had a little nook with enough room for a table. Stairs climbed along the back and left wall, giving access to a loft about half the size of the living room. The hallway led to two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a laundry room, the master having its own en suite.

The super was right; this was not what I'd requested. We could definitely make it work, though. I locked it back up and hurried back to the lobby, signing an agreement allowing me to hold onto the keys to both apartments for another two weeks in order to find furniture for Grace's room and the loft before moving in.

I got home to find Grace standing behind the couch, staring at Rosalie unblinkingly as she read. "That's not creepy," I muttered, grabbing my laptop off of the kitchen counter and plopping down next to Rose, who still hadn't noticed that I was back. "C'mere, Grace," I said, motioning her to the empty cushion next to me. "We're going to find you some bedroom furniture. If you see something you like just point at it, okay?" She climbed up next to me and snuggled into my side, one hand clutching my sweater and the other coming to rest next to mine on the computer.

We only had to hit three sites before she'd found the furniture set she liked and another two sites before she'd found the bedding set she wanted, a cherrywood twin with a matching desk, dresser, and nightstand and a black based comforter with alternating squares of orange, green, blue, pink, and purple that came with matching curtains. "Well that was easy," I said thankfully once everything was ordered. "And so the last order of business is: what color do you want the walls?"

She looked thoughtful for a moment, going so far as to tap her index finger against her mouth as she contemplated the colors before her, eventually pointing at one of the purple squares of the quilt. "Good one. I think I might paint my bathroom that color."

After a while she got bored of me looking for a second bathroom set and furniture for the loft and climbed down, returning to her post behind the couch and staring at the back of Rosalie's head. _That's a thing we're going to have to work on_.

I found a kitchen table and just like that all of the furniture was ordered and on its way. _Yay, internet._

"All right Kid, let's go make dinner," I said, circling around and grabbing her under her arms, scooping her up and landing her on the counter. "What do you think, Mac 'n Cheese or turkey burgers?" One finger. "Mac 'n Cheese it is."

I opened up the box and handed it to her, letting her dump the pasta into the pot before I poured the water in and stuck it on the burner. "Thirsty?" At her nod I poured her a glass of apple juice, sticking a straw in it before handing it over. I poured a glass of coke for myself and grabbed a bottle of water for Rose, handing it to Grace. "Would you please bring this to Rosalie?" I asked, setting her on the floor.

She made a face, trying to hand the bottle back to me but I blocked her. "C'mon, Grace – you were alone with her for an hour. Did she try anything? Did she even leave the couch?" She shook her head. "You've known her almost as long as you've known me. Just walk over, hand her the bottle, and come right back. It'll be fine."

She huffed, hugging the bottle close as she brought it the living room. She started behind the couch, edging slowly around it until she was about a foot from Rose. I almost thought she was going to go right up to her but she tossed it into her lap and ran back to hide behind the island. "Thank you," Rose called after her, looking confused as she looked up to find nobody there.

"Dinner's just about ready," I said, draining the pasta. "If you want a break."

"Ugh, yes please." She closed the book and dropped it behind her as she rose. "So what'd the super say?"

"Oh, now she's invested!" I teased, adding the milk and cheese. "I've got two weeks before I have to turn in the keys to this place. Do you want to help me paint the new place?"

"Of course! When?" she asked, scooping macaroni into a bowl and handing it to Grace, who was hiding behind my legs, before getting some for herself.

"I'm thinking Tuesday. I have to go out and get the paint, first. I don't have any rollers or tape, either."

"Tarps would be good."

"Ooh, good call. Don't want to have to be putting in new carpeting, too."

xXoOoXx

Three days later Grace and I stood in the middle of our new living room. "What do you think, Kid? Like it?" She nodded, looking towards the loft in awe. "I know what you're thinking, but that isn't going to be for playing. Not for a while, at least."

She pouted as I set her down, handing her the first tarp. "We'll worry about that later. But now… now we need to make this place our home. Do you think you can handle spreading this out for me?" She nodded, taking the task very seriously as she moved away to open it up. I set to work taping over the molding, failing to make it very far before Grace started grunting.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Careful, Sweetheart," I told her, reaching out to help her untangled herself from the plastic sheet. Her stitches were out, so there was no chance of her popping them again but her incisions were still raw and puckered and I didn't want to risk anything. "How about you bring a few to each room instead?"

While she made her deliveries I finished covering the molding in the family areas, finishing the rest of the rooms only a few minutes after Grace. Since she couldn't spread them out on her own, she'd made sure to stack them perfectly in each location. "Last task before the fun part," I told her as she followed me back to the living room, watching disinterestedly as I shook out and laid the tarps flat. I guess she'd given up.

The smile was back, though, when I poured the first color into a tray and handed her a paintbrush. I had the first wall painted before the fumes started to overcome me. _Shit. Didn't think of that. _I dropped my roller, flicking the ceiling fan on as I rushed to open all of the windows in the apartment. "How you doing there, Grace?" She gave me a thumbs up and her cheeky little grin, apparently unaffected by the scent of the paint. _Thank God. _

With the air flowing we get the living room done without any further problems, and just as I was getting ready to start on the nook Rosalie walked in. "I come baring gifts," she sang, holding up a box of pizza. "Who's hungry?"

"Not us, because we ate before we came up."

"More for me," she shrugged, setting it down on the counter and pulling out a slice. "What about you, Grace? You_ really _going to say no to a good piece of pizza?" At Grace's uneasy look she sighed, putting the box on the floor and retreating to the other side of the counter.

Grace darted forward, snagged a piece, and ran back to me. "How long is this going to go on, Kid?" I asked, running my fingers through her scraggly hair. She shrugged, munching on the crust first. While she had her snack I took her brush, rinsing off the light grey I'd chosen for the living room and drying it off, reloading it with the red of the kitchen and setting it down where she could reach it when she was ready.

We hadn't even made it through to the first bedroom when she decided she was done, laying down and conking out in the middle of the living room. Without her random strokes to correct all over the place, we cut about twenty minutes off of each room, and in another two hours we were done.

"Finally," Rose groaned, tossing her roller into the paint tray and stretching her back.

"Oh, Rose! You should've stopped if your back was bothering you!"

"After everything you've done for me? Besides, my back is always hurting now." Done with her stretch, she leaned down to pick up the tray.

"Leave it," I stopped her. "I just need to close up the paint cans and then we can go sit; I'm not going to keep anything else. I'll come back and toss it later."

xXoOoXx

I went back upstairs to clean everything up the next day, and over the next week the furniture was delivered. Luckily all of the deliverymen were more than willing to help set everything up. When they found out I was a single "mom," two of them gave me their numbers, offering to set up a date to help move the furniture I already owned up.

I didn't have any problems getting in touch with the first guy, but the second one's wife picked up the phone. After numerous accusations she finally gave me the chance to say that, no I did not want her husband to come over for… _personal _reasons, that I was a single mother without anybody to come over and help me move my living and bedroom furniture but I couldn't do it myself, and that her husband and one of his friends had offered to help.

She asked if I had any opposition to her coming along and when I said no she said that he as off at the same time as the other one and that he would be there.

Prior to their arrival I got everything off of the shelves and out of the drawers and moved up into the nook where it would be out of the way. With the two men working to get everything moved it only took the late morning/early afternoon to get it all set up, including a lunch break for lasagna.

I knew Grace was kind of over the whole moving thing so I made a game out of getting everything put back in its place, racing as she put the DVD and books in their spots (I could organize them after she went to sleep) and I put all of my clothes in the closet and the dresser.

When I came back out I found that none of them had made it onto their shelves. Instead, she'd made a castle of sorts around herself, stacking cases strategically. While that kept her occupied I was able to make the beds and put away her own meager collection of clothes and toys. In a few weeks, when she was up to the proper weight, we'd get her more but for now, while she refused to leave the house and preferred to stay in her pajamas all day, it was acceptable.

With everything organized I returned to Grace, sitting on the couch and watching her stack her towers as high as she could get them. When she knocked it all over I called her over, pulling her up to join me.

"Now, I know you have a deal with Rosalie," I started off quietly. "I'm not really sure what your deal is, or why you have it, but I know it's there. That being said, Rose is going to have a baby," I told her, much to her wide-eyed surprise. "Yeah, I know. The thing is, Rosalie doesn't have anywhere to go once she has the baby. She can't keep living at school with him or her."

She looked up at me and shrugged, as if to say, "Well where's she going to go?"

"I'd like to let her live here, but as long as you're here this is your home too, and if it's going to make you uncomfortable then she won't move in with us. But I need you to know that she is a good person and whatever the reasoning is for you being scared of her, it won't happen; she's not here to hurt you. And if she doesn't move in with us, I don't know where she's going to go."

She stayed silent, as always, staring at the front door as she, hopefully, thought about it. She looked skeptical as she turned back to me, as though to say, "You'd better be right about this." Despite her obvious apprehension she nodded.

"You're really okay with it?" I asked to make sure. As much as I wanted to give Rosalie a place to stay I wouldn't risk Grace's feeling of safety, no matter how ridiculous I found her disdain of Rose to be.

She nodded again and I pulled out the spare key. "I think she would really like it if you gave her the key." I didn't want to push too hard but while she was feeling seemingly amicable I figured it would hurt to try. She huffed but took the key from my grasp, sticking it in her pocket.

"Don't lose it, okay?" She quickly pulled it back out, returning it to me.

"How about I give it to you when she comes over again?"

A small smile in response. She was nervous, but thankfully willing to try. Hopefully she'd be as attached to Rose as she was to me before long.

* * *

**Off topic A/N: If anybody happens to be involved in Broadway trading, hit me up. My collection isn't huge but there are a few things I'm dying to get my hands on. Thanks!**


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